LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 







UNITED STATES OF AMEKICA. 



HYMNS, HOME, HARVARD. 



Hymns, Home, Harvard. 



M. C. S. 



"jj^atEtoell. 



/? 




BOSTON: 

A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY, 

(©IB Corwr iSooliistcre* 

1883. 






Copyright, 1SS2, I 
By M. C. S^<^' 



Printed^ not P^iblished. 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



CONTENTS. 



HYMNS. 

Page 

"It is Finished" 3 

Hymn ^ 

The Father Nigh 6 

Hush ! the Past 7 

Lo ! thine Angels g 

Give me to Know n 

When Weak and Worn 12 

Over Thy Chosen 14 

O Palestine! 15 

Lazarus 16 



The Recording Angels 



17 



Written for a very Young Singer 18 

Oh, Rachel Mourns 19 

Sun and Moon 20 

Hymn 21 

Infinite Nothingness — Infinite Helplessness ... 22 

Hymn 23 

Hymn on board the Europa 24 

Backslidings 25 

Hymn 26 

" Like as a Father pitieth his Children " .... 27 

Upward and Onward 28 

The Heaven of Heavens 30 

Imitatio Christi 31 

My Father 32 

MY sweet Mother 33 

1 CALL ON Thee 35 

Mother, as Upward 36 



VI CONTENTS, 

Page 

How CAN IT BE yi 

Love's Last Murmur 38 

Lo ! MY Heart 39 

Hymn 40 

Why can I not 41 

Help, oh Help me 42 

Resist to Blood 43 

Let us Praise 44 

While others, Father 45 

My Narrow Tower 46 

While the Past 47 

Lift up, Lift up my Heart 48 

The Predominance of Man 49 

Mrs. William Mason 51 

An Hour 52 

Two Exeter Boys, 1881 54 

Scatters where the Mist 55 

Moon and Sun 56 

The Century Plant 57 

Night 59 

The Heaven of Heavens 60 

Chill Age 61 

Oh, How am I 63 

Rizpah 65 

Autumn 70 



HOME. 

The Happy Matron . 75 

The Moorish Princess and the Evil Shade .... 76 

Le Verrier 79 

Love and Life 81 

The Shadow of Flowers 82 

The Adieu 83 

Miss C ke 85 

The Chestnut's Green and Glossy Sheath .... 86 



CONTENTS. Vli 

Page 

The Hope 87 

The Baby to her Uncle 88 

Thou hast taken 89 

Mount Auburn 90 

The Return to the Lily Wreath 92 

A Year Ago this Day 94 

Breathings at Mount Auburn 95 

Egg Rock, near Nahant 97 

Old Furniture 98 

The Wife's Affection 99 

Effie. 1845 100 

Teachings 101 

Why are all so Kind to me? 103 

Oh, the Depth of Joy 104 

South Andover 105 

Sketch 108 

Change 114 

We have looked on Life 115 

Calm, soft, and still 116 

To Miss Mitford 117 

The Wedding Day 121 

Here's Mother's Christening Bowl 123 

Fragment 124 

Dear Mother 125 

Alone 127 

Near if Afar 128 

Devereux Beach 129 

The Procession 130 

Fair History 131 

Ishmael 133 

Conway 135 

The Flowers at the Silent Gorge 136 

Baby Wishes 137 

Sunset near the Washington Range 138 

The Ocean Chair 139 

The Mummied Flowers 142 

My Last Dream 144 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Tagb 

How MUCH Thou Givest Me 145 

We know not 146 

My Father 147 

Napoleon 148 

The Pavilion 149 

Italy 150 

Washington's Birthplace 152 

The Cup 153 

Russian Woman 155 

Nature 157 

Fragment 158 

To Mrs. A z 159 

Lark 160 

If Love 161 

October 162 

The Pope's Benediction 164 

A Royal Train 166 

Wildcat Falls 168 

I own I DID not 170 

I BRING thee 172 

By the Closed Portal 173 

Phillip Sidney Coolidge 174 

And Ask Ye 175 

Ho! Watchmen 176 

The Oil-ship on Fire 177 

Woman in a Zulu Tent 179 

At Forty 180 

Music 181 

Youth 182 

Love 183 

Mid Frost that Blights 184 

Memory 185 

Woman's Affection 186 

O Lady much Beloved 187 

The Evening Walk 189 

Sharing at Gloucester 190 

A Vision of Les Mons Deserts 192 



CONTENTS. ix 

Pagb 

The Shoals . 195 

The Abbey Cliff at Mount Desert 197 

The Approach to London of Alexandra of Denmark 200 

Sealed Orders 203 

Alone 204 

Autumn 206 



TRANSLATIONS AND SUGGESTIONS. 

Translated from Gautier 209 

Victor Hugo 210 

The Infant's Evening Prayer 212 

whispered Sighs 213 

Swallows 215 

A Une Femme 217 

*0'er the D^dalian Ark 218 

*SONG 219 

*Wealth without Measure 220 

*0r ever he COMETH 221 

Adieu 222 

Sicilian Lullaby 223 

At Life's gay Feast • .... 224 

Forget, if thou 225 

Arnault's "Withered Leaf" 226 

Matilda Atheling of Scotland 227 

Moses 228 

1 WILL twine 229 

I send 230 

Victory 230 

Suggested 231 

" Oh, tell him ! " 232 

*I WILL NOT Sing 233 

*DuKE Leda's Bride 234 

*Atween the Elms "^It^ 

From Aulus Gellius 236 

*I fain would be '^'^^ 



CONTENTS. 



HARVARD. 

Page 

Read by a parting Class of Harvard 241 

Harvard 243 

Our Own Flag 244 

The Ninety Volunteers of New York 246 

Grief's Casket 247 

Columbia 249 

Now for Columbia 251 

Sumter 252 

When Struck upon her Shield 253 

The Matron's Drill 254 

Let Me Go! 257 

Harvard 258 

Buchanan's Message 259 

The North 261 

Shiloh — Victory 263 

Cumberland and Congress 265 

The Constitution again at Sea 268 

Hymn 270 

Autumn 271 

The Chandelier: or, A Faculty in Doubt .... 273 

The Record of the Year 278 

Autumn . 280 



ADDENDA. 

The Pavilion 285 

Lucretia Maria Davidson 289 

The Maniac Mother 291 

Take Back the Flower 294 

The Evening Mist 295 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGB 

View in Cambridge Frontispiece 

The Lamb of God (Murillo). Baron L de 

Rothschild i " 

Mother and Child 73 

Medallions of Napoleon. Brought to America 

in Cleopatra's Barge, owned by G. C.^ . . . . 148 
Marie Louise at the Petit Trianon. D'Apres 

Nature, par M. Prudon, a Paris, 18 10 . • - • 149 
George Washington. Original, unfinished, by 

Professor Eloi 152 

Mrs. Washington. Presented to M. C S. by 

Mrs. Tobias Lear . 152 

Bust of Jared Sparks (Powers) 239 

Statue of Washington, by Crawford. Dedi- 
cated to Jared Sparks 282 

Pavilion at Hyde Park, on the Hudson 

River. F. A. S 285 

1 This magnificent yacht was built and furnished in America 
by George Crowninshield. During his brilliant reception at 
various ports in the Mediterranean, the Pope, at his own sugges- 
tion, visited her at Civita Vecchia; and Madame Mere presented 
to him, from her own apartment, a perfect likeness of Napoleon, 
fait h la plume. The Princess Pauline gave to G. C. a lava box, 
with cameo on the cover, containing the hair of Napoleon, " cut 
by her own hand." This box is now in the possession of 
Mr. W. E. Sparks, at Taunton, Massachusetts. 




The Lamb of God (Murillo). 



HYMNS. 



HYMNS. 



IT IS FINISHED." 



GOOD FRIDAY. 



No more laljors, nothing lost ; 

Jesus giveth up the ghost. 

Angels came and gave the strength ; 

" Finished," Lord, at length, at length ; 
Bleeding foot that never hath 
Left the strait and narrow path, 
Never crushed the helpless worm, 
Passed from out the pelting storm. 

Chilling night, and shelter none ; 
Noon, and still a fiercer sun ; 
Homeless eve, and perjured day ; 
Who walked with Him on His way? 

On with every toiling breath, 

Step by step, a shameful death ; 

Bosom friends who should deny ; 

Traitors sell or timid fly. 



"/r IS FINISHED.'' 

Deserts, famished, He should tread ; 

Thorns should pierce His sinless head, • 

He who sin from us removed ; 

He who, looking on us, loved. 

At the threshold of our home, 
By Thy pity, to us come ; 
By Thine own victorious strength, 
For us finish. Lord, at length. 



HYMN. 



HYMN. 

(written by request.) 

Thou who hast no beginning, knowest no end, 
Upon our darkness smile Thy smile of light ! 
Draw nigh, Thy blessing on our souls to send 
With whom, dear Lord, it is " not day nor night." 

Light, Father, we would pour on darkened minds ; 
With soothing hopes would lead the lost to heaven ; 
Blind, let us not be leaders of the blind, — 
Give hope of pardon, yet go unforgiven ! 

Let not our sounding harps lie all unstrung, 
Our barren orchard-labor go unblest. 
Oh make our heart rejoice, and glad our tongue, 
And let us, in the work of God, find rest ! 

January, 1851. 



THE FATHER NIGH. 



THE FATHER NIGH.' 



The father nigh, with wayw^ard feet 
The infant totters him to meet ; 

Brings to him her slippery balls. 
Half-way onward, baby falls. 

Out she calleth o'er and o'er, 
Breaks her toys, and beats the floor ; 

Pants and struggles without rest, 
Sleeps upon the father's breast. 

Sought Him I with jewels fair, 
But my jewels broken were ; 

Wounded with my glittering toys, 
Still I hear the Father's voice. 

In my ear it soundeth sweet : 
May I, tottering, reach His feet? 



''HUSH! THE PAST. 



"HUSH! THE PAST." 



Hush ! the past is silent all ! 
Babbling future, at my will, 
From thy turmoil pause awhile ; 
Restless hopes and fears be still 



Maimed, and sick with flutterings, 
Weary on the dusty road, 
Lo ! my soul would close her wings 
In the bosom of her God. 

Tired with watchings, she hath been, 
O'er the craft of pride and care ; 
Hurried, racked with tumult vain. 
She would calm her throbbings there. 

Sinks the sun, her path is lost ; 
She is thirsty with delay ; 
Chill not Thou with night and frost 
One so weak in summer day ! 

Weak to bear another's load 
Of vanity, for she is vain, •— 
Pride or strife, for she is proud ; 
Tears she brings when tears are gain. 



''HUSH! THE PAST:' 

Lift the burthen from her wings ! 
Give her peace to bear with strife ! 
Heal her grief in Siloam's springs ; 
Quench her thirst, O Fount of Life ! 

October 27, 1844. 



LO! THINE ANGELS.'' 



LO! THINE ANGELS.' 



Lo ! Thine angels throng around, 
Lo ! archangels bow before Thee ! 

All hush their harps of silvery sound, 
And saints and cherubim adore Thee ! 

See where the honored Gabriel stands, 
Crowned with the richness of Thy grace ; 

And there awaiteth Thy commands, 
Bright with the brightness of Thy face ! 

For lo ! his wings are dazzling bright, 
But all reflected, Lord, from Thee ; 

Thou hast unveiled that look of light 
Before which seraphs bow the knee. 

His foot is on Thy stool of clouds, 
His head is lost in heaven's expanse ; 

Beneath him, lo ! the starry crowds 
Wheel in eternal maze of dance ! 

And he hath bowed his glorious head, 
Veiled with the plumage of his wing ; 

All, silent, wait Thy word with dread, 
And heaven's assembly cease to sing ! 



lO ''LO! THINE ANGELS.'' 

A moan of human woe, a cry ? 

The hall of light, can sorrow fill ? 
Hushed music's touch of harmony, 

And heavenly tones with awe are still. 

Yes ! He the sufferer sits above ; 

The Son has claimed the Father's ear ! 
Nor pleads in vain that voice of love, 

The Lord of heaven bends to hear. 

Oh ! praise the Majesty on high. 
And bless the Mediator's word ; 

While o'er the sinner's tear and sigh 
Angels rejoice, for God has heard ! 

1828. 



''GIVE ME TO KNOW." II 



"GIVE ME TO KNOW." 

Give me to know myself with studious art, 
Whom serpent foes of virtue most molest, — 
Like Moses, lay my hand upon my heart, 
And thrust it, Lord, into my treacherous breast, 
Though leprous as the snow, it thence may part. 
That I may know its secret of unrest. 

Sunday, June 3, 1832. 



12 ''WHEN WEAK AND WORN.'' 



"WHEN WEAK AND WORN." 



When weak and worn the tie 
'Twixt earth and heaven, 

When the link of sympathy- 
Is wellnigh riven ; 

When polluted thought would cloy 

On another's wasted powers ; 
When the sun of another's joy 

Shall wither ours ; 

When the laurelled wreath we would tear 
From another's honored brow, 

Though the toil-worn leaves we would wear 
Shield us even now, — 

Come to the shrine of prayer, 

Frail mortal throng ; 
Scatter your burthens there, 

And bear away a song ! 

Where is wounded the human heart. 

Ye who have lightly heard. 
From whose lips doth lightly part 

The slanderous word ; 



''WHEN WEAK AND WORN.'' 1 3 

Ye who have " been angry and sinned," — 

Come to the shrine of heaven ! 
Ye have mocked at motes and are blind : 

Bend, weep, and be forgiven. 

Ye who have joined your hand 

For joy and sorrow won, 
In earth's most sacred band, 

With hearts made one ; 

For whom the same hope and joy, 

Until ye die. 
Must the storm-rocked shallop buoy 

Of immortality ; 

If the harp of many chords 

Hath been struck by a reckless hand, 
And to fond love's gentle words 

It will not respond, — 

Come to the shrine of love ; 

Its God shall tune the strain : 
Cling to His feet, nor rove 

Apart again ! 

1832-1833. 



14 ''OVER THY CHOSEN. 



"OVER THY CHOSEN.' 



Over Thy chosen and Thy cherished One 
Hovered in vain long-suffering love divine : 
Rebelhous Israel did pollute Thy shrine, 
And lit for nought Thine altar's kindling flame, 
And there an offering brought the sick, torn, blind, and 
lame. 

Ages have past. Our offering still the same, 
Still, Lord, we bring Thee through Thy holy Son, 
And gather round His table in Thy name ; 
Still the same mortal gifts ; the blind, the shorn 
Of mental light, — with such He trod His thorny way, — 
The lame and the infirm of purpose, and our torn. 
Our torn and broken hearts, — such did he guide and 

heal : 
With these, and with our sick, sick souls, we kneel. 
Father ! for He hath said Thou wilt not cast away ! 



"0 PALESTINE ! " 1 5 



"O PALESTINE!" 

O Palestine ! how yearns my weary heart 

To nestle in thy bosom ; yet one more 

To that sad weight, fair Hving monument ! 

Another bhghted garland of those flowers 

Which He, who viewed in woe thy loveliness, 

Sought for His crown, — of thorns. Dark gifts ! 

Yet freely deck they thy fair proportions. 

Such are thy trophies, thou blest tomb of sorrow, 

And oh, of how much love ! blest, blest indeed. 

Which gave repose, but had no part with death ! 

Tiberias, O Tiberias ! to me 

It were such luxury to bathe this brow, 

This unloved brow, once — once in thy sweet waters ; 

To watch, half hid in memory's fantasy. 

Their gentle swellings, and to deem their bound 

Just checked in loving awe before the step 

Which trod in power their waves, that even now 

Each fleeting eddy curls to kiss his foot ! 

Oh ! but to lean this aching head in peace 

Once, once upon those heaving mountain breasts 

Whence rushed th' obedient storm ! to feel. 

While resting where that foot hath passed to prayer. 

Each stormy grief, each rebel tear, depart ; 

For they would echo back that voice of love, — 

Reaching through vista'd ages unto me, — 

" My peace, — my peace I leave with you : be still ! " 

1829. 



l6 LAZARUS. 



LAZARUS. 



Thomas prayed with Him to dwell, 
With Him to die, when Lazarus died ; 

O doubting ! if he sleep 't is well. 
There 's stronger hope by Jesus' side ! 

Death shall die, and Lazarus rise ; 

Walk thou on, with Jesus nigh. 
Who dies that we like Him may live, 

Lives, that we may learn to die. 



THE RECORDING ANGELS, 



THE RECORDING ANGELS. 

Two angels dear on every soul attend, 
And watch, with patient waiting, on each hand ; 
One with soft eye of hope, and one of fear, 
And both with love intense, a golden record bear. 
And when that precious soul with love doth glow, 
Those loving eyes with holy lustre shine. 
Then doth the right-hand angel whisper low, 
*' 'Tis ours forever ! " and with seal divine 
Confirm the good, for good can ne'er decay, 
But, all immortal, wings to heaven its way. 
But when suspicion dark, or fearful wrath, 
Troubles the lustre of those sinless eyes, 
The left-hand angel of man's darkened path 
In weeping silence writes, and sad surprise ; 
But holds the golden scroll unsealed still. 
And on his hopeful brother leans awhile, — 
For if that soul repent the heavens shall smile ; 
Then shall that record fade in light divine, 
And only sorrow weep to leave so fair a shrine. 

1840. 



1 8 FOR A VERY YOUNG SINGER. 



WRITTEN FOR A VERY YOUNG SINGER. 



Sinless head with piercing thorns, 
Sorrows mocked and heaped with scorns, 
By Thy one sad piteous moan, 
Thine our bitter drauglit alone. 



Failing, faithless, we have trod 
Not like Thee our way to God ; 
Sinners we, but going home, — 
Only Thou canst bid us come. 



''OH, RACHEL MOURNS.'' ig 



'' OH, RACHEL MOURNS." 

Oh, Rachel mourns for loved ones vanished, 
Whose doom is written, " Dust to dust ; " 

The home is sad whence they are banished. 
Half our hope and all our trust. 

Though not more dear, the loved and lost. 
Than living objects of our care, 

Round these are twined our earthly hopes. 
But those the holy theme of prayer. 

And where the patient prayer ascends 
We know that harps unseen resound, 

And half partake the ''joy in heaven," 
Rejoicing that the lost are found ! 

The litde wanderer of our flock 
Our Father in his arms doth hold ; 

Our lambs are safe by Israel's rock. 
Where gathers Israel's scattered fold. 



20 /'SUN AND MOON 



"SUN AND MOON. 



Sun and Moon o'er Ajalon 
Faltered once, both moon and sun : 
Ages since have onward rolled, 
Time and Death their tale have told. 

Yet while lives the Soul of man 
Ye shall tremble yet again ; 
God and Man shall be at one 
At your fading, Moon and Sun ! 



HYMN. 21 



HYMN. 



Thou art leading me on my way, Father ! 

Thou art leading me on my way, 
Through many a thorn to pleasant paths, 

Through night to endless day ! 

Thou wilt pause to strengthen and soothe, Father ! 

Thou wilt pause to soothe and to warn. 
When, amid night and thorns, my feet 

Are weary, weak, and torn. 

Thou art still by my sleeping side. Father ! 

When, rocked in Thy arms, I forget 
My sorrow ; and oh ! Thy kindness. 

Long-suffering yet, even yet ! 

When I dream of forbidden fruit, Father ! 

When I wake and my face would hide, — 
Oh ! ever watching to pity, 

Thou art still by my side. 



NOTHINGNESS —HELPLESSNESS. 



INFINITE NOTHINGNESS — INFINITE 
HELPLESSNESS. 



Ah, let me know Thy love, Thou Lord of All ! 

Can it be possible Thou lovest me ? 
Weak, erring greatly, hardly true at all. 

From Thee my distance is infinity ! 

I know, — I know the value of each day, 
I feel the whirling of each passing hour ; 

Yet on they go, and I make strange delay. 

With longing wish to serve, but not the power. 

Time, — time is rolling ; sunsets come and go. 
And courtier clouds turn smiling to the morn ; 

With folded hands I watch the transient glow. 
Know my dread change, die daily, others warn, 

Myself supine. Oh, nothing without Thee, 
I feel Thy presence, slight Thine awful brow ; 

Rush onward thus, and on, eternally, 

Yet is my All this short and fearful Now I 



HYMN. 23 



HYMN. 



(WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE HARVARD DIVINITY 
STUDENTS.) 

Thy banner, Lord, is spread ! 
Up ! to our pilgrimage on Jordan's shore. 

We lift the cross, we bow the youthful head ; 
Oh, bless and pardon ; we return no more ! 

On ! where the thunders leapt 
When wild on Galilee the storm was hurled ; 

Where waves, rebuked and timid, gently swept, 
Repentant, to His feet who saved a world. 

We go Thy lambs to feed : 
Oh, when temptation on our souls hath power, 

Wilt Thou not watch beside us at our need, — 
Us, Lord, who slept, nor watched with Thee one hour? 

We go, but we are weak : 
Oh, should these lips, which bless Thee, e'er deny. 

Turn Thou and look upon us while we speak, 
That we our sin and shame weep bitterly. 

On barren Calvary, 
O Thou, who erst the woful summit won. 

When we in breaking hearts Thy Mother see, 
Give us the legacy, '' Behold thy son ! " 



24 HYMN ON BOARD THE EUROPA. 



HYMN ON BOARD THE EUROPA. 



While loud our awful mirth arose, 

Devout unto Jehovah's ear, 
Lo ! white alone with summer's snows, 

The surging ocean paused to hear. 

Father ! not now in cheerless grief 
To Thee we bend the rebel head ; 

A table in the wilderness 

For us Thy constant love has spread. 

As flies from day the panting bird 
To find at night her shadowed nest. 

We seek our waiting, happy homes : 
There shelter Thou our Christian rest ! 

From out Thine own eternity 

Speak Thou in watches of the night ; 

The solemn lesson of the sea, 

Teach 'mid the silence of her might ! 

Chance-lit upon mid-ocean's spray, 
We soon shall scatter far or near ; 

Heaven-led upon our thronged way, 
Some gift for others let us bear ! 



BACKSLIDINGS. 25 



BACKSLIDINGS. 

Thy blessed, blessed Word 

Resoundeth, Lord, Thine own ! 

The Church, the Bride, hath heard, 
She kneels before Thy throne. 

We love its teachings dear, 

We Hsten and we pray ; 
With hope, with holy fear, 

We promise to obey. 

Lo, thus renewed in faith, 
Professors of Thy name. 

Oh ! even unto death 

Shall we that will proclaim ? 

We, who confess the Lord, 
Li flowery paths we sleep ; 

In rough, deny His Word, 
Know, love, but cannot keep. 

We cannot keep ! With tears 
We come, once more to learn ; 

Yet oh ! with stronger fears, 
With deeper love, return ! 

November 30, 18 51. 



26 HYMN. 



HYMN. 

Sung at the Ordination at the Independent Church, 
AT Baltimore, of Mr. Charles Richmond Weld, B.D., 
January 2, 1S73, 

Come to Thine house ] Beloved walls 
Here hallowed memories shield, — 

For hallowed hands within these halls 
Thy face to us unveiled. 

Here age, with promised future near, 

Brings her embroidered past j 
Youth, a blank page for hope and fear, 

Oh, not too fair to last. 

The absent watch the braided hair, 

Unstirred in brooch or ring, - — 
Sit silent by the vacant chair, 

And hear the lone air sing. 

Lord, give thy serv^ant certain stay. 

The cross, his lot, to bear ; 
Strong with Thy staff, and Jesus by, 

Grant him Thy love to share. 

For Thou art tender, and wilt wait. 

And soothe and light our way ; 
And bless alike the golden state 

And stealing shades of day. 



FATHERLY PITY. 2J 



'LIKE AS A FATHER PITIETH HIS 
CHILDREN." 

Winds blew and stormy rain it pelted ; 

Loud I shrieked on lonely wild. 
From the roof my head that sheltered, 

I had roamed, a thankless child ; 

Crept along the sparkling river, 

By the lilies fair beguiled ; 
Little hands could reach them never, — 

Night and hunger fright the child. 

Then the Father came to meet me. 
Saw my tottering steps, and smiled ; 

Stooped with gentle kiss to greet me, — 
" Whither wanderest, httle child? " 

I am glad, the threshold treading, 

Clinging to the Parent mild ; 
He, the bounteous table spreading, 

Loveth still His thoughtless child. 



28 UPWARD AND ONWARD. 



UPWARD AND ONWARD. 



TRAVELLER. 



Oh ! glide with me through gentle vales, 
Where human love doth fervent glow, 

And human prayer shall swell thy sails, 
As thou dost onward go ! 



PILGRIM. 



Nay ! come with me ; my path is cold, 
And hard beset with storms and snow ; 

By love unlured the way I hold, 
For I will upward go ! 



TRAVELLER. 



Oh, come with me ! The human heart. 
And loving hand, and whisper low, — 

God made them for a noble part ; 
Come ! thou shalt onward go ! 



UPWARD AND ONWARD. 29 



PILGRIM. 



Nay ! here the road, and hard the strife ; 

I may not turn a glance below ; 
One hope, one thought, — eternal hfe ! 

For I will upward go ! 



TRAVELLER. 

Thy course pursue, O noble soul ! 

What though unlike the path I know, - 
Thy guide, heaven's host and starry pole 

God speed thee ! upward go ! 

November 17, 1844. 



30 " THE HE A VEN OF HE A VENS. " 



THE HEAVEN OF HEAVENS.' 



The heaven of heavens, our God, 

It cannot Thee confine ; 
Yet build we altars here below, 

Saviour ! for we are Thine. 

God, I sigh for Thee ! 

My being Thou didst frame ; 
Thine angels watch around my way, 
And kindred with me claim, ■ — 
And kindred with me claim. 

How passing rich the cost 

Which bought us for Thy Throne, - 
The temples of the Holy Ghost, — 

For we are not our own. 
No ! I was born of God, 

I bear a holy name ; 

1 tread the thorns His Son hath trod, 
And cherubim and seraphim 

A kindred with me claim. 



IMITATIO CHRIST!. 



IMITATIO CHRISTI. 



Love of Thee 's a good unbought, 
From all evil takes the sting ; 

Beareth all things, feeleth nought ; 
Weight is light upon its wing. 

Love of Thee 's a noble loving, 
Conquereth earthly wile and snare ; 

Still aspiring, heavenward moving, 
Panteth for the freedom there. 

None in heaven loftier burning, 

Sweetness still, though long deceived 

Aye excelling, upward turning, 
All attempting, much achieved. 



32 MV FATHER. 



MY FATHER. 



Lord, in what name 

Shall I present my prayer ; 
What can I claim 

In His that trembles there ? 

He can add nought 

To Thy full store ; 
Love, faith unbought, 

Were Thine before. 

Honor 's His path, 

But that is Thine ; 
Virtues He hath, 

But all divine. 

Yet shall my prayer 

Rise to Thy throne. 
For Thou " wilt care " 

For them, " Thine own." 

November 26, 1S30. 



O MY SWEET MOTHER. 



j:) 



O MY SWEET MOTHER. 



O MY sweet mother, while I tread alone 
This weary trial-world whence thou art gone, — 
Thou, above hope or faith, or pain or harms, 
All gently girded by the clasping arms 

Of that sweet group, from whose upholding love 
Earth severed thee, when they did flit above, — 
Dost bend with yearning love o'er those below. 
Thy child, and oh, thy husband, now, even now, — 

While we, with paUid lips and care -knit brow. 
Mix with thy joy all heaven can hold of woe, — 
Mother, dear mother ! I can talk to thee. 
Nor murmur that thou canst not answer me ; 

Yet pity when I mourn, and, from on high. 

Look on me with that kindly love which cannot die. 

The dewy morn with heavier tears is showered ; 
All 's chill. The heavens to me have changed hue ; 
The skies put on a livery of green. 
And Earth — the sun-clad Earth — is chill and blue. 



34 " O MY SWEET MOTHER. " 

She, clearest, with a cold step-mother's spleen, 
Locks her rich bosom's wealth, all dark embowered, 
In unmaternal arms. Her hills. 
Her fields, if nought of sweet vitality 

They yield, why from the silent prayers that wait. 
Gasping with hope, the dying dolphin's glow, 
And draping, round thy sad, sweet, solemn state. 
Hung from the throne of God, thy couch below. 

Dearest, why, from the aching love which fills 
This trembling heart, cannot I nourish thee ? 

September, 1835. 



/ CALL ON thee:' 35 



I CALL ON THEE." 



I CALL on Thee, from the deep, shadowed grove, 
Where chill, but sheltered. Thou hast built my seat ; 
Thy Son's last care was still a mother's love, 
And I have laid my treasure at Thy feet. 

Thy name is Love, and like Thy name her life. 
Shield Thou, who best canst shield, our gende one 
From malice, hatred, all unkindness, strife, 
Death and the grave, which have no victory won, — 

All evil which attends the love she left ; 
From too much pity unto us bereft ; 
Struggling with woe, yet let us think she loves, — 
Feel that she sees, and smile that she approves. 

Thought, winged to her, more freely reaches Thee, 
Our strength, our Father, hope, — our home eternally ! 

October 4, 1835. 



36 '^ MOTHER, AS UPWARD.'' 



MOTHER, AS UPWARD.' 



Mother, as upward, o'er the slippery steep, 
With many a backward step and giddy head, 
Towards thee, thy child, though weak, is still impelled. 
Thou feel'st how hard the parallel to keep, — 
How hard with equal steps the way to tread. 
Where thou, by love all visible upheld. 
Onward, unceasingly, art gently led. 

Forgive, as God doth pity, where I fail. 

When I would walk with thee, and fill thy place 

So sacred and so hallowed, that this frail. 

Lone heart trembles on the familiar seat, — 

x'Vll, — all unfit. Oh, for the dear deceit 

Of half-restoring dreams ! Oh, could thy feet 

Walk with me here, in heaven that I might see thy face ! 

October ii, 1835. 



''HOW CAN IT BE.'' Z7 



HOW CAN IT BE.' 



How can it be, alas ! how can it be, — 

When I so yearn for thy sweet company, — 

How can it be, alas ! how can it be, 

That I so short a space have dwelt with thee ? 

How can it be, when thou art ever near, 

That heaven, whose gifts of love are full and free. 

Is dark, and my dull heart again is sere, 

And my dull eye doth aye refuse to see ? 

I felt that my own guardian hovered near. 

Albeit no sense took note of peopled air. 

It seemed, dear spirit, that it wondering said, — 

" How can it be, alas ! how can it be? " 

And my own spirit, sighing, answered, — 

" How can it be, alas ! how can it be? " 

November, 1835. 



38 ^'LOVE'S LAST MURMUR. 



LOVE'S LAST MURMUR. 



Love's last murmur, softly spoken, 
Is not chill with weak despair ; 

Love's last sigh, her parting token, 
Is but an immortal prayer ! 



LO! MY HEART,'' 39 



"LO! MY HEART." 



Lo ! my heart to Thee-ward turning, 

At Thy feet its vain delight 
Lays, more sweet than incense burning, 

Far more precious in Thy sight. 

Oh ! 'tis there, in sin and sorrow, 
Hope of pardon shall be born ; 

There shall dawn a blessed morrow 
On the eye that weeps forlorn ! 

Weeping and Thy feet anointing, 
Thou wilt smile upon my pain ; 

Joy for woe Thy love appointing, 
Thou that wast for sinners slain. 

Thine a love needs no relenting. 
Thou canst all my sin remove : 

Give unto my soul repenting, 
Give the holy kiss of love ! 



40 HYMN. 



HYMN. 



Sung at the CoNSECRATioisr of the Van Polanen Chapel, 
AT Bridgeport, Connecticut. 

Thou whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, — 
Yet comest Thou a Utile child to meet, — 

To Thee we consecrate this hallowed fane, 
And bring our offerings to Thy mercy-seat ! 

Lo, at Thy call we come ! but not to claim 

The meed " Well done ! " from Thine all-seeing eye ; 

We would but listen where Thou needs must blame, — 
We come, our work undone, for more employ ! 

In love look down ! Unworthy, but all Thine, — 
Sinners, for sinners here we kneel in prayer, — 

Oh, best we guide a brother to Thy shrine 
When sad we come to lay our burthens there ! 

Gather, O Father, in Thy loving hand. 

Us, whom the Saviour wept and bled to save ; 

Sinners, not righteous, hear us where we stand, 
By the rich promise which Thy mercy gave ! 

1849. 



J4^HV CAN I NOT.'' 4^ 



WHY CAN I NOT.' 



Why can I not remember me 
Of Thee at morn and even, 

And, leaving all my sins with Thee, 
Repose awhile in heaven, — 

Rest with the Spirit and the Lamb, 

Forget the weary past, — 
My morning thought be what I am, 

My coming night, the last? 

I am, for I belong to Thee, 

Loved, because sought by Him ; 

Yet, veiled in earthly memory, 
His heavenly light is dim. 

I may be, Lord — oh what or where, 

Is better in Thy hand ; 
I know that only by Thy care 

I shall withstand, or stand. 



42 ^^HELP, OH HELP ME.'' 



HELP, OH HELP ME.' 



Help, oh help me, when I stray. 

Unstable as the wind ; 
Weak hopes and vainer fears betray, 

Give me a firmer mind I 

Give me a constant, loving heart, 
A will that 's true to Thine, 

An honesty that knows no art, 
A peace that 's all divine. 



''RESIST TO BLOOD.'' 43 



RESIST TO BLOOD.' 



Resist to blood, and I will pay thee, 

Saith the Lord, whose blood thee bought ; 

" I would bear, from any other 
Freely, all I think I ought." 

He is not the truly patient, 

Bargaining for so much ill ; 
That from only such a neighbor. 

He hath yielded not his will ! 

Son, be thou prepared for battle, 

Wouldst thou victory obtain ; 
Make thou ready, — do and suffer ! 

God's own grace thy meed and gain. 

Imitatio Christi. 



44 ''LET US PRAISED 



LET US PRAISE. 



Let us praise while praise we may, 
Pour the honey and be wise ; 

If life be one short summer day 
We '11 not forget how soon it flies. 

Leave cold blame to other's voices ; 

Change this dull to generous mood ; 
Cheering praise worn hearts rejoices ; 

Let us praise the fair and good. 



WHILE OTHERS, FATHER.'' 45 



WHILE OTHERS, FATHER. 



While others, Father, see Thy face : 
We, who have loved unworthily, — 

Is there for us no room in space. 
No hope in long infinity ? 

We only lift the sordid hand 

And stained soul, our weary freight ; 

We ask no palm, no crown demand. 
But oh, to wait, within the gate, — 

Afar to watch the bliss and peace 

Of age new-born, and new-born young, 

Who on that shore found quick release, 
And fearless learned of love the tongue. 

Afar to watch, to hope for aye, — 
Too much for us, unclean, unclean ! 

Oh, wouldst thou meet Thy child half-way, 
The dead shall be alive again ! 



46 AfV NARROW TOWER. 



MY NARROW TOWER. 



My cell of liberty left out 

Thy staff and rod ; 
My prison shuts the world without, 

And shuts in God, — 

Imprisons great Infinity, 

Disarmeth harm ; 
A noble peace of modesty 

Its quiet charm. 

No cross is borne within the soul 

Where Christ doth sit ; 
The body feels no dark control 

Within if lit. 



** WHILE THE PAST. " 47 

"WHILE THE PAST." 

Chosen by Dr. Gannett for a sacramental hymn. 



While the past expandeth wide 
Gentle shadowy arms to me, 

With Thine emblems at our side 
Ages sever us from Thee. 

While in silence here we sit, 
Casting, at thy bidding free, 

Sin and suffering at Thy feet. 
Vices sever us from Thee. 

Lo ! we drink the pledge divine, 
Doubting, Lord, and wearily ; 

Vain the consecrated wine, 

Dimly severed thus from Thee. 

While we touch the sacred bread, - 
Waving, sinking, vanished, see ! 

In our hearts the flame is dead, — 
Darkness severs us from Thee. 



Cast Thy banner round about ! 

From its love shall error flee : 
Sorrow, frailty, time, nor doubt, — 

Nought shall sever us from Thee. 



48 ''LIFT UP, LIFT UP MY HEART. 



''LIFT UP, LIFT UP MY HEART." 



Lift up, lift up my heart to Thee ! 
She hears Thy voice, " Come, take and eat." 
Oh break her cliains, that, fond and free, 
She spring to nestle at Thy feet : 

Fond, as the prayer of faith that wheels 
On wings untiring up to Thee \ 
Free, as the song of Zion peals 
From sea and shrine its melody ! 

College Chapel, March 3, 1850. 



THE PREDOMINANCE OF MAN. 49 



THE PREDOMINANCE OF MAN. 



Your banners devastating lift, 

Your desecrated altars raise, 

The martyrs in their fiercest fire. 

The Bible in their blaze ! 

Blot every record of the past, 
Each solemn, dear entreaty hush, 
And chill in Bosphorus' sunny mart 
The maiden's softened blush. 

Broad raise the Teocalli's side. 
Give wrath her own, and murder scope. 
Sweep far adown the Ganges' tide 
The mother's tender hope ; 

Light, — light again the Roman torch 
On Jordan's wave and Usdum's shore ; 
Hear Mariamne's wild acclaim, 
Bring Herod back once more ! 

No ! break in light the tortured dream 
Of nations back to chaos hurled ; 
Deduct what is from man alone, 
And what is left? A world ! 



50 THE PREDOMINANCE OF MAN. 

The touch inspired of holy art, 

The law made pure, and science free, — 

A Babel-tower in every land, 

The heavens to scale — and see ! 

What made the prophet pen to write, 
The brush in tints so fair to glow ; 
The walls to teach without a tongue ; 
God's errand free to go ? 

The truth of Christ, elate, divine. 

Raised temple, tower, and pointed dome ; 

Gave to the woman's heart her mate. 

Gave to the wife her home. 



MRS. WILLIAM MASON. 51 



MRS. WILLIAM MASON, 

OF TAUNTON, MASSACHUSETTS. 

Friend ! thou hast met and crossed the border land, 
Great love and pity freighting either hand. 
What angel's task than thine more tender, fairer, — 
Burthened with other's woes, and blessing-bearer ! 
A life for others filled, a laden day 
Cumb^ed with good that fadeth not away. 
How shall sleep pain without thy gentle wile. 
How patient smiles be born without thy smile ! 
Ah ! full howe'er the cares while thou art gone ; 
Beloved, at Jesus' feet shall sleep thine own ! 



52 AN HOUR. 



AN HOUR. 



An hour, full fraught, hath fled to heaven : 
What thought, what record, bore it there ? 
Strength, conquering, that with sin hath striven, 
Prayer, humble prayer. 

What bear ye on your glancing wings. 
Swift hours ? Up with ye in your flight. 
Speed earth's most evanescent things. 
For ye are light. 

Fair forms, hope's airy shade and mirth, 
Laughing up-buoy your failing powers, 
Giddy with youth's gay dream of earth. 
Light hours, light hours ! 

Wide wings, is there no darker weight 
Upon your plumes, no weary wrong 
Forgiven, ye upward bear elate, 
For ye are strong ? 



AN HOUR. 53 

Aye, and flushed wrath and suffering's scream, 
And sorrow watching, mourning long, 
And pale, lost memory's fading dream, — 
Oh, ye are strong ! 

Fragile and light ! Yet mirth is gone, — 
In distance hushed hope's wizard song ; 
And I, eternal wheelers-on. 
Feel ye are strong ! 



54 ^1^0 EXETER BOYS. 



TWO EXETER BOYS. 1881. 

[Jared Sparks and John Gorham Palfrey entered Exeter to- 
gether, passed through hfe together, and in wearing illness held 
bright hopes of a future together.] 

Unblemished Faith and Truth have met ; they twain, 
Their bell for morning study rung again, 
Their ages of Eternal Youth begun, 
Their way to glorious hopes once more to run — 
Marvel on marvel of the works of God — 
With winged feet, on paths together trod. 
Their crystal life the power to weep disarms. 
They whose last sleep broke sudden in Thine arms, 
They whose last solemn waiting met Thy smile. 
The golden cloud, the Love ineffable. 
Give them the heart, not man's, to bear the bliss, 
To meet the circling All, the rich abyss ; 
Then, with great Moses, count the stars he saw 
Mid desert fires when spake in fire Thy Law ! 
The Truth — the Truth, in all Thy works to gain. 
Their love so great, the more shall they attain. 
Study the wondrous Will which balanced Earth 
And wrought the rich ingredients of her birth. 
Tenderly, mighty One, our treasures sweet, 
They twain, we leave them gently at Thy feet. 



SCATTERS WHERE THE MIST.'' 55 



SCATTERS WHERE THE MIST." 



Scatters where the mist of night? 

Glorious sun is breaking through 
Chirping birdies hail the light 

Wave slight rose-stems to and fro. 

Fresh and warm the happy day 
Saffron streaks on welcome dawn. 

Ah, within the anxious eye ! 

Something dear so chill and wan ! 



Trills the lark, and shouts the starling 
Rural sounds go humming by, — 

Slowly ebbs thy day, my darling, 
SHent faints thy life away ! 

1877. 



56 MOON AND SUN. 



MOON AND SUN. 



Pursue, O best beloved, thy purpose high, 

Amid earth's sons on angel mission roaming ; 

I, the while, silent in the silent sky, 

Love's sentinel unto love's watchful eye, 

Like tinted morning clouds that see the dawn is coming ! 



THE CENTURY PL A NT. 57 



THE CENTURY PLANT. 



Tell me, Oh Lord, tell even me 
What here shall live, and live to Thee ? 
If I, Oh Lord, if even I 
Shall something find that may not die ? 
Grief diggeth deep and lieth low, 

Like any stone ; 
But from its bed soft waters flow, 
And sweetest flowers, with vines upgrow, 

Around the throne ; 
And then, and then, from every root. 
If grief be gold, they fade in fruit. 
Hope smiles, and sings and longs for heaven, 
Weeps, dies, with kisses is forgiven. 
Blind anger's flash, rush, struggle vain. 
In darkness born, falls back again. 
Love 's a guest of heavenly birth, 
Nor knoweth time nor toucheth earth. 
A tendril, love, from loving skies, • — 
Lives if we live, and with us dies. 
For us it hangs its arching bowers ; 
In life eternal, love is ours. 
The babe from angel hands above 
Brings love, so it may learn to love ; 
A holy dower by love sent down, 
Strength, test, prize, trial, cross, and crown. 



58 THE CENTURY PLANT. 

What 's certain in this world-wide span ? 

What 's constant that belongs to man ? 

Ah, who 's assured of work, power, health ? 

At yon low portal, where is wealth ? 

One cactus, of immortal growth, 

Than life or death is stronger both, — 

A thorny stalk without a leaf ; 

A harvest — none shall bind the sheaf, 

A deadly fruitage none shall see — 

Sin ! — sin that earns remorselessly 

A death, death hath no power to kill, 

A life — and indestructible. 

Sin ! — hath it not a century flower. 

Sin — bitter with a healing power ? 

Have I not sinned, O bleeding Lord ! 

And others suffered at my word, — • 

And, suffering, learned from woe to feel, 

Pitied my sin, in tears that heal? 

Have I not drank the bitter half, 

The healing woe I caused Thine own ? 

Have we not made my sin our staff? 

May wandering feet ne'er find Thy throne ? 

Sin only lives that sin may die. 

Only because I sin have known. 

Come I to Thee, come even I ! 



NIGHT. 59 



NIGHT. 



When rapid evening's hurried chime, 
And short the day as age's hours, 

And swift as youth are tide and time. 

And gone the strength tliat sheltered ours ; 

For us, — for us who front the sun, 
While sunset dews in smiles relent ; 

When night and coming glow are one, 
And sleeps the day in rich content, — 

And we perchance good deeds recall, 
And scorn another's vesture worn, 

What measure shall we meet withal, 
Where sunny hope was never born? • 

February 17, 1877. 



6o " THE HE A VEN OF HE A VENS. 



THE HEAVEN OF HEAVENS.' 



The heaven of heavens cannot contain 
Thee, Father, Friend, and King ; 

Yet build we temples not in vain, 
Nor vain the gifts we bring ! 

Behold with these Thy servants come ; 

Already at Thy gate 
The weak, the blind, the maimed, the dumb, 

Lay down their loads and wait. 

We wait to watch, and weep, and pray ; 

Sinners, to say " we sin ! " 
We wait to work the while 't is day. 

Thy grace, dear Lord, to win ! 

To weep amid the dark eclipse 

Which blinds us to the Day ! 
To pray, — give music to our lips, 

To heaven new harmony ! 



CHILL AGE. 6 1 



CHILL AGE. 



The failing step, the senses dim, 

With heart forever young, 
May share the Hfe's unfailing hymn 

And low perpetual song. 

For me no frown hath age's brow, 

The lost are ever nigh ; 
But oh, 't is only now I know 

How sad her tearless eye, — 

To live, nor share the smile or sigh, 
To give, for thankless grasp ; 

A blank, for common sympathy ; 
A hand with none to clasp ! 

Then oh, how bleak the coming night, 
How chill the heights of even ! 

No charm hath age to stay the light 
That glows in love's mid-heaven ! 

Without a tear where worldlings chide, 
That heart, alone and drear, — 

Close nestling to the Shepherd's side, - 
Is dumb, and lets Him shear. 



62 CHILL AGE. 

Lift not, O Lord, the weary load 
That bears me, suffering, down ; 

The blows that drive me nearer God, 
Must urge the wanderer on. 

Each morning dawns, a dreary scene. 
No shelter from the blast ! 

No heart expands to let me in, 
The blows fall thick and fast. 

It may not cease, the loving storm ; 

'T will cast me on the shore. 
Lord, in the cloud I see Thy form. 

And only love Thee more. 

It would not come so driving hard. 
Lord, were there time to spare ; 

Only do Thou the work prepared 
For me, — bear Thou my care ! 



''OH, HOW AM /." 63 



OH, HOW AM I. 



Oh, how am I, with countless blessings, poor ; 

How, with a word of praise, am stricken down ; 
How deep the sudden wound that I endure ; 

What sharp reproaches does my spirit own, — 



Not wholly. Lord, because I leave undone 
That one hard thing Thou gavest me to do ; 

Refuse the thorn thou gavest for my crown, 
And love so idly, though I love Thee, too ! 



My light, that led not the decrepit blind ; 

My cloak, that for the threadbare waited not ; 
My words reproving, when they should be kind, 

My purity, that whitened no dark blot ! 

Ah, me ! that bear no ill, what shall I bear. 
When patient love seeks out its erring child, — 

Some trailing vine not clothed with fruitage rare. 
While my rich vine with leaves was thick and wild ? 



64 



''OH, HOW AM L 



^Vhen I was tortured with a chilling glance, 
And bitterly a healing warmth forbore ; 

\Vhen cut my very soul with bootless taunts, — 
My loving labor paused for many an hour. 

Have I not trespassed with the first deep sin, 
Consumed my fruit of knowledge meant for all ? 

Do I not cHmb and eat, for me and mine, 

And smile supreme when weak ones fail or fall ? 



Oh, Thou hast never promised pardon, peace, 
To him, the pure, who passed the sinner by 

How can the spirit spring to quick release. 
Content in health to hve, — a Phaiisee? 



RIZPAH. 65 



RIZPAH. 



But the King David took the two sons of Rizpah, the daughter 
of Aiab .... and he delivered them into the hands of the 
Gibeonites, and they hanged them in the hill before the Lord. 
And Rizpah took sackcloth and spread it for her upon the rock, 
from the beginning of harvest, until water dropped upon them 
out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest 
upon them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night. — 
2 Samuel, xxi. 



I SIT alone, and I weep alone. 
Oh, in his tents and with his own, 
And guarded by his martial ring, 
Mid Israel's tears sat Israel's king, 
When for his bad, bright, beauteous one 
He sobbed aloud "My son, my son ! " 

I sit alone, and I weep alone ! 
The harvest-time hath come and gone. 
The first bright days of mirth and wine, — 
Ah, what were they to me and mine ? 
Of sackcloth, her unsheltered tent 
Who knew and felt the love of Saul, 
In every glorious lineament, 
Of Israel the goodliest all ! 
And thou wert mine ! When think I can. 



66 RIZPAH. 

So burns the past upon my brain, 
A broken radiance, seen and gone, 
Not joy's not woe's, — thine, thine alone ! 
This faded brow by monarch's side. 
This haggard form a monarch's bride, — 
A vanished dream those days of old 
Their glory, pomp, a tale that 's told. 
Pride, pomp, and sceptred power were vain. 
They could not still one throb of pain ; 
I would not one vain hour recall. 
From thee, from thee, O Saul, O Saul, 
One glance of love were worth it all ! 

Oh, man has gathered in the pride 
Of Judah's richest harvest-days. 
And wife and children wrought beside 
To greet his words of love and praise. 
What word of love or praise for me ? 
Saul — dead ! For regal Saul to die 
Benumbed the half of memory — 
Hushed for my ear eternally 
My children's dear familiar tones, — 
Let the bare rock my dwelling be, 
I cannot, cannot leave their bones, 
Though palsied were both heart and hand 
When spake King David's fell command ; 
As when, at word of Saul, stood grand 
The vision of the prophet-seer, 
Dread sanction of prophetic fear ! 



RIZPAH. 67 

The sun hath beat upon my head 
Through long, long months of summer's joy ; 
Still I will make my flinty bed 
Near thee —near thee, my youngest boy. 
My youngest boy ! In tearful mood, 
Loved charmer of my solitude, — 
The magic of thy infant years 
Oft wiled away thy mother's tears. 
Oh, I am heir to tears and groans, 
I must have wealth for mine, my sons ! 
My sons ! My boys ! My eldest born, — 
Beloved before thy natal morn, 
Oh, more than youth's first giddy dreams. 
Than young affection's deeper streams, — 
Loved for the wile I only guessed, 
The smile which I first saw and blessed, 
Loved for the clear light of thine eye. 
Loved for thy slumber's happy sigh, — 
Brows loved for every tiny curl. 
Lips loved for every new-born pearl ; 
Hands which thy dress half-way removed, 
Limbs for each added roundness loved. 
My eldest born, loved most of all 
Because thou wert the son of Saul ! 
And when those hands, their little force, 
Would try to check the Jordan's course, 
And when those limbs, in bolder play, 
Would safely stem the Jordan's way, — 
Oh, all a mother then, my son, 
I loved thee, for thyself alone ! 



6S RIZPAH. 

And they have seized these ripened charms, 

These breathing forms so beautiful, 

And given to my empty arms 

This dreadful but this cherished all ! 



For Rizpah there is none on earth, 
Her heart can know no second birth. 
Dark as the sackcloth of her seat. 
Dry as the ashes at her feet, — 
With nought beneath, around, above. 
With nought to fear and none to love, — 
She cannot leave her holy trust, 
Her sacred all, her children's dust. 
No ! though a change is on the plain. 
And wildly pours the autumn rain ; 
And through the clouds, by thunder riven, 
The water droppeth out of heaven. 



And let it fall, my blessed ones. 
Upon ye, so it drench me too. 
For this I breathe no useless moans, — 
Fate is not hard, if share'd with you ! 
I will not wet the stranger's eye 
With tears which none but mine should pour 
I '11 brook the narrow sympathy — 
Which felt too late to save, — no more ! 
Lo ! castled on my rock of death 
None shall approach my state, my sons, 



RIZPAH. 69 

Nor footsteps from the Gibeon heath, 
This lonely woe, these guardian stones ; 
No, — nor the birds of air by day. 
No, — nor by night the beasts of prey ! 

Thus in accents sad and slow 
Widowed Rizpah poured her woe ; 
Then, poor martyr to her fate, 
Childless Rizpah silent sat. 



70 A UTUMN. 



AUTUMN. 



Now fades the grass, but not with heat 
The flower thereof doth fall away ; 

Nature is hushed before her change, 
The evening of her Summer day. 

And solemn falls the foot of time ; 

And soft as at the morning's birth, 
Soft as the finger on the lip, 

The golden leaf doth touch the earth. 

And still, as at a fireside prayer, 

The sun goes down the southern sky ; 

Even so descend upon our hearts, 
The truths of immortahty ! 

No flower uprears her gaudy freight, 
And offers chaliced incense now ; 

No winged bloom of future fruit 
Doth linger on the parent bough. 

With fragrant breath they told their tale, 
These gentle seers, and passed away ; 

Glad insects sported in the sun. 

Then rested from their brilliant day. 



A UTUMN. 

The little bird hath come and gone, 

Hath loved, and left his air-swung nest ; 

He knows that when the Spring returns, 
Fresh leaves again shall shade his rest. 

The towering tree o'erspreads with waste 
The withered wild-flower at its root ; 

But, types of an eternal hope. 

Each sends the floating seed about ! 

Yes ! bird and tree and prophet-bloom 
Trust Thee for hfe and hope renewed ; 

And shall I doubt that boundless love 
Will make its boundless promise good ? 

May 7, 1843. 




Mother and Child. 



HOME. 



HOME. 



THE HAPPY MATRON. 



My heart it acheth never, 
For God is ever good ; 

My babe He watcheth ever, 
He makes its daily food ; 

For life it is a marvel, 
And God is ever good ! 

My husband's love doth cherish, 
And he doth honor me ; 

To-morrow, if I perish. 
What matter can it be ? 

My life is full with blessings, 
And he doth honor me ! 



'je THE MOORISH PRINCESS. 



THE MOORISH PRINCESS AND THE 
EVIL SHADE. 

A Legend of Hyeres. 

While with beauties evanescent, 

Wild the winds her tresses toss ; 
Glowing on her brow the crescent, 
Hidden on her heart a cross ; 
Gain or loss, — 
A cross ! 

Whelmed in sands ; her footsteps' error 

Followed by the Evil Shade ; 
Brothers fled in mortal terror, — 
Bride unclaimed, the royal maid, 
Fair and wan, 
Alone ! 

Sweet eyes still, and pale lips parted. 

One hand on the Tree Divine ; 
Fainting limbs, but angel-hearted. 
On his brow she signed the sign, — 
Gain or loss, — 
The cross ! 



THE MOORISH PRINCESS. 7/ 

Whirled by night and tossed by day ; 

Storm and wreck and shuddering breath, — 
Still the Shade she kept at bay, — 
Breakers chill and shore and death ! 
Then rest : 
So best ! 



Tangled tresses all unrolled ; 

Sheltered cross upon her bosom ; 
Tangled chains of hair-fine gold. 

" Fair," they said, " as almond blossom : 
Gain or loss, — 
A cross ! " 



They smoothed the hair and chains of gold ; 

They honored her, they buried her \ 
But left untouched the mantle's fold 
O'er that Divine Deliverer, 
Found, not lost. 
On their coast. 



Gold then sent the Moorish king 

To the town upon the bay ; 
" But men will fight for golden ring, — 
Give an Iron Cross," they say ; 
" Gain or loss, — 
A cross ! " 



78 



THE MOORISH PRINCESS. 



Stands the Cross of Iron still, 

Still they love the maiden's fame ; 
By the church-tower on the hill 
Still they name the maiden's name, 
And they rest, 
So best ! 



February 3, 1866. 



LE VERRIER. 79 

LE VERRIER. 

Discoverer of the New World. 



Verrier ! thy name with trembling awe to sing, 
In vain the muse expands her upward wing ; 
Trembling, she sinks and, awed, her hope deplores, — 
A traveller thou upon celestial shores ! 
Lo ! where, triumphant o'er thy noble kind. 
Thine ark outrode the deluge of the mind, — ■ 
Prone to thy sail, a timid dove, she flies, 
To hail thee there, Columbus of the skies ! 

Who found the orphan, wandering on the wild, 
And bade the placid heavens own their child ? 
Bade eager earth extend her brazen hands 
To seek a sister on their golden sands ? 
With the last trembling drop, O favored one, 
Who filled the star-fraught beaker of the sun, 
And weighed the golden platines of the night ? 
Bade a world be, and lo ! it rolled in light? 
Take up the message thou but half hast given. 
Repeat the errand of that child of heaven. 
Say, to that harp, whose third and thrilling string ^ 
Low vibrates here, do weeping angels sing ? * 

* The ancients maintained the probable discovery of some of 
the more remote planets, and deemed that other "strings would 
complete the heavenly lyre " which Le Verrier has newly attuned. 



80 LE VERRIER. 

Is the note perfect there, to us so shrill, — 

And say, oh say, in Music shall it swell ? 

Is the chord perfect there, whose notes resound 

In wildering echoes here of murmured sound ? 

Or guide those notes serene yon mystic dance. 

Which reach our ears in wail of dissonance ? 

Closes the diapason fully there, 

Faint and unfinished in this distant sphere ? 

Its cloudy garment rent at thy command. 

Burst the " thick darkness " of its " swaddling band," — 

Lift up that voice which fixed its corner-stone, 

And measured its foundations, one by one ! 

Shall murmurs cease there, hopes be counted o'er, 

Shall grateful thoughts more freely heavenward soar ? 

Say, shall suspicion " sleep at wisdom's gate ? " 

Shall rancorous lips restrain the cry of fate ? 

And virtue's wan eclipse disperse in bliss. 

And pity raise sad error with a kiss ? 

Shall prayer no more to human ear make moan, 

And sympathy be merit's meed alone ? 

Shall care lie down with peace, and twin disease 

Hang, soothed and sobbing, at the breast of ease ? 

Shall love repose once more in Psyche's arms. 

Nor Memory mourn her too immortal charms ? 

Speak ! with a dream of music fill our souls. 

While from thy lips the theme supernal rolls ! 

1847. 

Note. — M. Le Verrier gave a pleasant reception for his 
friends to hear these verses read aloud by one among them, an 
American gentleman. 



LOVE AND LIFE. 8 1 



LOVE AND LIFE. 



Oh, what is Life, and what is Love, — 
The one so frail, the other strong ; 

One scarce outlasts the summer day. 
The other, worn and riven, so long ? 

In home's dear haunts Life leaves no trace 
Of charms that were our fondest boast ; 

But Love, while hearts have hope and grace, 
Doth cherish still the one she lost. 

Ah, little would I ask of Life 

Which breathes awhile this nether air, 
For, when my dwelling is on high. 

Fond Love will cling forever there. 

And what if Life be short on earth, 
And what if Love be worn and riven ? 

One fadeth where she has her birth, 
The other always is of heaven ! 

1843. 



82 THE SHADOW OF FLOWERS. 



THE SHADOW OF FLOWERS. 

For my childhood, love's prophecy, came 

A sketch of soft doves, and a wreath 
And a circle of light on my name, 

A faint shadow of flowers beneath. 
Flower-laden, life brought to my bosom 

Gracious buds, bearing bliss to my bowers ; 
And from these, early shattered in blossom, 

Falleth ever the Shadow of Flowers. 

Kind friend ! all unconsciously round me 

It fell, the dark charm of that wreath ; 
And fresh, but oh, shadowy, hath bound me 

With dews and with bloom till my death. 
And my footsteps still onward forever 

Have trod in that circle of light ; 
But my heart, hope forsook it, oh never ! 

Though my brow wore that soft kiss of night. 

Oh, when life is unclouded refulgence, 

And happiness sanctifies home. 
What then, even then, is remembrance. 

Save the altar that hallows the dome ? 
And now the mild pageant is closing ; 

Love counts, one by one, golden hours ; 
On my brow, lo ! in twilight reposing. 

Sad and tender, the Shadow of Flowers. 



THE ADIEU. 83 



THE ADIEU. 

Father ! Thou who lov'st Thy children 
More than they who weep and part, 

Guide the father and the husband 
To my weak but yearning heart. 

God of wind and God of ocean, 
Lull Thy ministers to peace ! 

God of joy and God of sorrow, 
Bid each threatening danger cease ! 

God of earth and God of heaven. 
Kindly still protect Thy child ! 

Ruler of the mountain billow. 

Watch Thou o'er the faithless wild ! 

God of health and God of sickness ! 

Be about his couch afar ; 
Father ! though no friend be near him. 

Let us feel that Thou art there. 

Shed upon his daily pathway 
Countless blessings as of old ; 

And to his dreaming spirit nightly. 
One by one, our names be told. 



§4 THE ADIEU. 

Names of friend, and more than brother, 

Fellow-laborers here below ; 
Those for whom he thought and labored. 

Watching o'er their weal or woe. 

Let angels tell, and tell it softly, 

Of another far away ; 
Say how well they left his darling, 

And how happy in her play. 

The wife, too, of the dreamer's bosom, 
The wife whose heart is with him there, 

Tell him that on him she thinketh. 
And his noblest hopes will share. 

Whisper gently of her fondness. 
Whisper of her foolish wiles ; 

Tears few but sad the past hath numbered, 
In his presence changed to smiles. 

Sketch the home he left behind him, 
Sketch it cloudless all and fair ; 

Paint the loved ones that await him, — 
Utter low a wife's fond prayer ! 



[840. 



MISS C KE. 85 



MISS C KE. 



The strong of arm and strong of heart, 
With love parental watch thy way : 

Up, maiden ! to thine earnest part ! 
With noble toil their love repay. 

Unveil thy virtues far and free 
To burgeon, as in southern skies 

Luxuriant India's banyan tree. 
Whose arches fair successive rise. 

And should a cloud o'ercast thy brow. 
Oh, rouse the spirit strongly then, — 

As droops that tree her graceful bough, 
To tower in glorious growth again ! 

Government House, 

Frederickton, N. B., 1843. 



S6 THE CHESTNUTS SHEATH. 



THE CHESTNUT'S GREEN AND 
GLOSSY SHEATH." 



The chestnut's green and glossy sheath is curled, 

The bannered lily hath her flag unfurled, 

Through sunny airs white petals down are hurled. 

Come, little one, into the beauteous world ! 

Come with young faith into its hopeful air ; 

Come with full love into its temple fair. 

Nor shrink from where its sheltering shadows are, 

Nor fear on Him who cares, to cast all care. 

Amid His pastures thou shalt folded be, 

Thine eye on Him be fixed trustfully, 

Lo, if the storm come, 't is to strengthen thee ; 

Strong hand, strong heart, strong hope, on bended knee. 

This be thy safeguard, these thy portion free. 

So in the burning bush, thy God fear not, nor flee ! 



THE HOPE. 87 



THE HOPE. 



When the cord, the silver cord 
That binds me to thee, love, is broken : 
When, save this infant's glance and word, 
l^hou hast of me nor sign nor token ; 
When shall come thine aged day, 
I would have thee, dear, to say ; 
" On her tongue, my child, she hath 
Answer soft that turneth wrath ; 
For others' faults a loving bUndness, 
On her lips the law of kindness ; 
Her eager mind, though busy still 
With clearest thought, owns Father's will ; 
And if we walk through flood and fire, 
With praise her heart and voice aspire ; 
When comes the world with insult cool. 
She puts that voice and heart to school. 
The scorners she forgets to hear ; 
Yet hoardeth private, for their ear. 
Tones of love for wrongs forgiven, 
In her eye the light of heaven ! " 

1841. 



88 " THE BABY TO HER UNCLE. 



"THE BABY TO HER UNCLE.' 



The baby to her Uncle Ware ! * 

She never saw but greets him fair ; 

And sends to him a httle letter 

In hopes one day to know him better, — 

Hopes on his journey he may thrive 

And Aunt and he have charming drive. 

They say it is a pleasant spring 

With bee and flower and bird on wing ; 

May everything around them be 

As good and sweet and fair as She. 



" THOU HAST TAKEN. " 89 



THOU HAST TAKEN." 



Thou hast taken from our care, 
Lord, the child of many a prayer ; ' 
Homeward doth her spirit fly, 
Wings of truest hberty. 

Dweller in that home above, 
Wrap our infant in Thy love 1 
She hath garnered her in Thee 
Knowledge great exceedingly. 

She doth taste and " see how good 
God prepares her daily food ; 
On my lips the bitter part — 
Be it sweetest in my heart ! 

Failing oft, for we are dust. 
Still we strive Thy name to trust. 
When shall we be bound in Thee, 
Blessing great exceedingly ? 



90 MOUNT AUBURN. 



MOUNT AUBURN. 



[This communication was suggested by a notice in the daily 
journals of recent spoliations thoughtlessly made in the enclo- 
sures of Mt. Auburn. I have read the articles with sorrow, — 
for I too am a sharer in its associations, — " more in sorrow 
than in anger," for I too have been young ; but I would gladly 
lend my aid to remind the light-hearted of the sacred affections 
which are thus violated.] 



Oh, she hath lost her httle flower 
We planted by her narrow home, 

Where we might pass a saddened hour. 
And deem her spirit there did roam ! 



We parted with her tender charms, 
And we suppressed the yearnings wild. 

And in fair earth's maternal arms, 
We laid the image of our child, — 



Amid sweet Auburn's verdant aisles. 
All consecrate by prayers and tears, 

By holy sighs and patient smiles, 
By living hopes and buried years. 



MOUNT AUBURN. 91 

But hearts, young, bright, and gay came there, 

And trampled on the verdant sod ; 
And when my infant's flower was fair. 

They plucked, and lightly on it trod. 

Our hearts — for earth hath not the power — 

We cannot quite from earth recall ; 
I wept upon that broken flower, 

My gift of love, my infant's all ! 



92 RETURN TO THE LILY WREATH. 



THE ^RETURN TO THE LILY WREATH. 

All withered ! When we laid thee there 

We left a kiss with every leaf, — 
A quivering smile all sad with tears, 

The shadowed smile of tender grief. 
Light floats the raft on sunny seas. 

While chill her treasures coil beneath : 
I see them still, — that little mound, 

Thy blossoms rich, thou glowing wreath ! 

'Mid Nature's summer smile, and Man's, 

Upon my silent soul they gleam ; 
I gazed adown the valley's wealth, 

I stood beside the mountain stream. 
When music trilled from thousand throats, 

Filled with her joy the dewy air ; 
When wandered lone the holy moon, 

'Mid stilly Nature's silent prayer. 

The wild bird warbled from the branch. 

And echo answered at the close ; 
The charmed air lingered to be struck 

Again with sounds so sweet as those. 
Here, o'er the homestead's grassy sward, 

A mother's charge, the infant, crept ; 
While, cumbered with love's labor sweet. 

From rock to rock the squirrel leapt. 



RETURN TO THE LILY WREATH. 93 

The pealing organ's swelling praise, 

The falling torrent's loud alarm, 
The cottage mother's lullaby. 

The huddling rivulet's drowsy charm ; 
The mountain crest, £he sunset flush, 

And teeming Nature in her prime. 
The tender maple's early blush. 

The abundance of the harvest time, — 

Oh, Nature's summer smile, and Man's : 

Upon our souls how fair they fell ! 
And yet, — that little mound and \vreath, — 

'Mid vale and crag, — I saw them still ! 

1842. 



Age now hath come, with shortened breath, 
And life hath sped with wayward will ; 

But silver-voiced earth cannot, 

Nor chiming waters, break the spell ! 



94 A YEAR AGO THIS DAY. 

A YEAR AGO THIS DAY. 

(set to music by ^professor PAINE.) 

How softly wooes the blissful breeze, 

As, gliding through the sky, 
It sings, " How dear the present hour ! " 

Yet sweet is memory. 
O gentle, gentle airs of heaven ! 

So pityingly ye flow — 
As I gaze into your deep-blue home — 

About my saddened brow ! 

The lofty tree bends to and fro. 

Beneath your loving sway ; 
Even so it swung, and so you sung, 

A year ago this day. 
A year ago this lovely day 

The sky was full as fair : 
As fair and soft yon verdant tints 

Then, as this day they are. 

O gentle, gentle airs of heaven ! 

I love ye as ye flow — 
All gay with song, and ripe with bloom — 

Around my saddened brow. 
All wooingly, all soothingly, 

Ye call me from the sky : 
'^ How sweet," ye sing, " the passing hour ! " 

Yet dear is memory ! 



BREATHINGS AT MOUNT AUBURN 95 



BREATHINGS AT MOUNT AUBURN. 



Ope the gate, thou holy keeper, 
Burst, oh burst the sealed stone ! 

I would tell the little sleeper 
That we are no more alone. 

O darling, darling ! I would whisper 
Bhssful breathings in thine ear ; 

Telling that thy little sister 

Wipes, how many a silent tear ! 

She sheds rainbows on our sadness ! 

Most to father she was given ; 
Thou dost know that title's gladness, 

Thou hast learned it, dear, in heaven 



She doth shout it, with another, 
When her little heart is stirred ; 

She hath found a name for " Mother," 
That is earth's most holy word ! 

Never on thy lips it lingered, 

Where mine clung, so soon to part ; 

In thine eyes I read it, darling ; 
Oh, it lived within thy heart ! 



96 BREATHINGS AT MOUNT AUBURN. 

Hers are tears of summer's shedding \ 

Thou hast never shed a tear ! 
We dry them ; we are not so lonely, 

For our home it holdeth her. 

Tears ! they teach us many a lesson, 
Thou from angels' lips dost hear ; 

Tears ! they water plants for heaven, — 
Thou a flower wast nurtured there ! 

Could'st thou utter, of that dwelling. 

One fond whisper in mine ear ! 
Could'st thou — oh, my deep heart 's swelling ! 

Tell of those who met thee there ! 

Have they met thee, — they, the worshipped ; 

Will they to my heart return ? 
Names that should in light be written. 

When their utterance shall I learn ? 

Oh, farewell ! Light dies away, love ! 

Comes the world upon my soul ; 
Peace, the halcyon, flies the wave, love ! 

Back the tides tumultuous roll ! 

1846. 



EGG ROCK. 97 



EGG ROCK, NEAR NAHANT. 

SHArED LIKE A LlON. 

Hast thou a soul in that heart of rock ? 

Hast thou an eye in that watching form ? 
Hast thou a fear for the tempest shock? 

Hast thou a thought for the groaning storm ? 

Ah, king ! how still thy hoary head doth rest, 
Fast curled on youthful ocean's throbbing breast, — 
Thy marble form upon that heart of hers. 
Like death reposing on the universe 1 

Grand lion of the seas ! thy vast abode. 

With thee unmoved upon its heaving floor, — 

Like the wide heart of man beneath its load. 

Wintry, and wild with storms, tosseth from shore to 
shore ! 



98 OLD FURNITURE. 



OLD FURNITURE. 



They have left my father's house and home, 

All, steady and old, turned out on the road ! 

All, strangers and old ! Must they too roam ? 

All have been cared for in that abode ! 
Heavy and slow as a funeral pall 
The wagon moves, and they jostle all ! 
Only a desk, that is ill at ease — 
Only some chairs — and I thinking of these ! 

Chairs and a table which held us at meals, 
Where we ate our bread, and spilt our milk ; 
And two sat watching, with cautions and smiles, 
A bureau, — not precious with robes of silk, 
But little white aprons, and nicest gowns. 
With thought made up and with care let down, 
Oh, why is a pang in my weary heart, 
And tears in my eye so ready to start? 



THE WIFE'S AFFECTION. 99 



THE WIFE'S AFFECTION. 



As loves the fragrant flower the sun, 

Whose golden smile its being is ; 
As loves the floating bird the air 

Which buoys him to his home of bliss ; 

As love the summer clouds the moon 

Whose gentle form they late carest ; 
As loves the child the mother's arms, 

Which court it to its noonday rest \ 

As loves the unfettered soul the star, 

Whose light along its path is given ; 
Even as the angel loves the babe 

He bears with hymns of joy to heaven ; 

# 

So woman loves the faithful one, 

Who gained her heart in early years, 

Through hope, through joy, through changeful fate, 
But most, ah most, through mutual tears ! 



100 EFFIE, 

EFFIE. 1845. 

M. V. S. 

A FLOWER in heaven's smile 

O'erhung the brooklet fair, 
And gazed upon the stars awhile, 
Then lay in Effie's hair. 

It died, and did bequeath — bequeath, 
Its perfume to her breath. 

The star of purest spell. 

That shed the light of love, 
'T was bright and soft and sad ; it fell, 
Oh why? — fell from above ! 
It died, and gave away — away, 
Its lustre to her eye. 

The gentle breeze that swept 

Where tinted roses play, * 

Over the curling brooklet leapt. 
And danced its life away. 

It died, and left, sweet murmurer. 
Its softest grace to her. 

The maid that loved the rose, 

That saw the star and sighed, — 
Lo, by the brooklet's chill repose 
The breeze moans where she died ; 
All sweets to her were given — given ; 
She took them all to heaven ! 



TEACHINGS. lOI 



TEACHINGS. 

M. V. S. 1845. 



She was fair and bright, and joyous too ; 

And she played on the flowers, 
Waving and nodding, and heavy with dew, 

In their morning bowers. 



Hour after hour she watched their hues 

Of rainbow Hght ; 
But she wept aloud, for she could not choose, 

At their noonday blight. 

A bird there was, whose loving notes 

To her heart were dear ; 
Lo ! lost in music away he floats 

On the sunny air ! 

She sobbed, that the bird which fled from her lips 

Should dwell apart. 
Like a vanished hope, in dark eclipse. 

On the maiden's heart ! 



102 TEACHINGS. 

Once more, she clung to a playful child, 

But her peace was deep 
When she saw that infant undefiled 

In its last low sleep. 

" They are gone to heaven i " said the maiden mild, 

Child, bird, and dew : 
'' Now I know the way," she spake and smiled, 

" I '11 follow too ! " 

November 2, 1843. 



J^FHV ARE ALL SO KIND TO ME? I03 



WHY ARE ALL SO KIND TO ME? 
M. V. S. 

She sleeps, and Thou hast blest 

Her sleeping and her waking, Comforter ! 

Thine arm is round her. Thou hast hoHer rest 
And freer life for her, — 

Even now while love draws nigh. 

Adorning with kind deeds her softened day, 
With golden deeds of ripe humanity 

Strewing her pleasant way, 

Her hours, though fair, are few. 

The burthen of her life too full delight, — 
Like honey-bee, o'erfraught with honey-dew. 

Lost to the hive at night ! 

And softly on her brow 

Falleth the gracious shadow of her crown ; 
And swiftly noble traits are ripening now, 

Her rich prime should have known. 

God bows her gentle head. 

And heaves her bosom fair with laboring breath, 
Toucheth her forehead with a baptism dread, 

And hallows her with death ! 

May 4, 1845. 



104 ''OH, THE DEPTH OF JOY.'' 



OH, THE DEPTH OF JOY." 



Oh the depth of joy that lies 
Calm in Fonnie's tender eyes, 
Oh the world of merry guile 
Dimpled deep in Fonnie's smile. 

Oh the music, passing art, 
Speaks from Fonnie's deeper heart, 
Says, while starts the sudden tear, 
" Do you love me. Mamma dear? " 



SOUTH ANDOVER. 105 

SOUTH ANDOVER. 

Ballard Vale. 

Oh, the dear old pond and the wide oak trees, 
Where I used to stay till vacation was o'er ; 

And Pomp, the old negro, who gave it a name, 
And his house and his girls of sixty and more, 
Where I went election-day ! 

Where I bought me a cake, and came back by the stream, 
Where it parts for the isle with the branching trees ; 

I have swung by the grape-vine which curtains it in, — 
So gracefully swayed by the petulant breeze 
Which beat on the fragrant screen. 

There I burnt me brown in the noonday sun ; 

With my tiny feet, through the tangled grass, 
I crossed the field by a way of my own, 

And I stopped to count as the cows did pass. 
And roll in the half-mown hay. 

I took care to be present at milking-time, 

And I begged to be by when the butter was churned : 
And was sure to get wet at the cheese-press screw ; 

By the apple-pie oven my fingers were burned, 
And cut with the pruning-knife, too. 



Io6 SOUTH ANDOVER. 

Aiid was n't I white with the miller's flour, 

When my fingers were held to the singing wheel \ 

But I was n't content, and I ran there again, — 
And did n't I firighten my father well, 
And did n't he firighten me ! 

Then the bridge where the boys had carved their names, 

A little way off from the noisy din, 
Where I looked at my foot in the wave below ; 

And did n't I love the bright Shawsheen, 
Which looked at the foot again. 

And the lunch on the hill„ of curdled milk, 

And drop-cake and loaf-cake, and nutmeg and cream ; 

The mothers, laboring up the hill. 

To spring on the sport, while the children scream, 
Fly towards them, or scramble away ! 

One blushes, half-wreathed with the oaken spoil ; 

One rolls in the fern with her berries blue ; 
One, garlanded all with the clematis bough, 

Dress lifted to run, yet turneth too. 
To watch the matron play. 

Now came fathers and uncles and aunts by the score ! 

Too noisy to know when their wheels rolled by. 
We greeted them now with a shriller shout ; 

And bustled about with brighter joy, 

To spread the grass where they lay ! 



SOUTH ANDOVER. 10/ 

Alas ! we have smoothed their grassy bed, 

We have hung o'er their couch again — again ; 

But tiie cheery smiles of gentle mirth, 

Of love, and sweet pardon, we seek in vain, — 
Our shelter has passed away ! 

There 's a great brick factory built there now, 
And the winding road I know 's improved ; 

But I wish 't was the same as ever it was, 

And as roundabout, too, for my heart is moved 
To see it so straight and smooth ! 

Oh, the hill and the pool, and the acorn-cups, 

And the butternut tree by the mica rock ; 
And the blackberry meadow, so sunny and hot, 
And the chickens and hens, and the red-and-green 
cock 
That gave all my corn away ! 



And the breezy barn where I used to hide, — 
That barn — but I may as well hold my tongue ; 

They called for me always from there to be dressed. 
I know no better now than when I was young 
The hour I should leave off play ! 



lo8 SKETCH. 



SKETCH. 



But hark ! an echo from the hill, 
And lo ! a light upon the rill 

Trembling in wavy brilliancy ; 
And, where the meeting vines above, 
Clasping each other about in love, 

Swing in the night wind's potency ; 
That flickering light from leaf to leaf, 
Like the shifting shades of joy and grief, 

Bewilders the darkened eye. 

But it was not the spirit of beauty around 

That checked the Indian's lightsome bound ; 

'T was not that the goddess had stooped from on high. 

To try if the power that had decked the sky 

With its depth of blue, and its bowers of gold. 

And the banners of crimson around them rolled ; 

And the magic pavilion of Northern light. 

With its mystic dance of its inmates bright, — 

Which had robed it round as the place of her birth, — 

Might mingle its tints with the shades of earth. 

His glance had fallen on a light canoe. 
Which sped its way through the waters blue 
With a noiseless rush and a muffled oar ; 
Nor crossed it once that track of light. 



SKETCH, 109 

But held its course near the darkened shore, 
And vvellnigh mocked his practised sight. 
The Indian to the light drew near, 
When from the cave a last death-moan, 
And then a loudly uttered groan 
Successive met his ear. 
Then on the grass he threw his bow, 
And to a crevice bent him low. 
The inner cave by the torch he saw : 
There lay the dead on a couch of straw, 
And one bent over that lowly bed, 
The laughing light of whose brow had fled ; 
Whose lip of mirth had chased away 
Many a tear by its roundelay ; 
Whose hand of kindness had lent its aid 
To smooth the wrinkles by sorrow made ; 
The airy light of whose youthful brow 
But showed the contrast more strongly now, — 
Like the waving torch of that midnight hour. 
Which lit the rocks with a fitful power, 
But left a heavier sadness there, — 
A deeper, darker hue of despair, — 
Like the cup of a flower which is left behind 
When its leaves have been torn by too rough a wind ; 
And who, now alone in the wild beasts' lair. 
Her brow all chilled by the touch of despair, 
Gazed on the form she had followed so far — 
That rayless eye which had been her star, 
That hand which had guided her infant years — 
With absorbing woe too deep for tears ! 



SKETCH. 

Then slowly breaking from the trance 

Which could not bind the soul, 
And shutting out that vacant glance 

Which yet had seen the whole ; 
Half shrinking from that fatal brink 

So surely there, 
Half turning from that fearful link 

To another sphere. 
That thing at once so high, so low, 

The eye which burned to shed a tear, 
The form so nerveless now, 

So strongly nerved, till from that bier 
Came forth that death-moan low ; 

And o'er the all it cherished here 
It hung in powerless woe — 

She stood awhile a fitting mate 
To that ransomed thing — the freed of Fate. 

There is a sleep without a dream, 

There is a night without a beam. 

To bless the weary and watch-worn sight ; 

But that dreamless sleep and that rayless night 

The one a wide waste of unpierced gloom, 

The other a rest akin to the tomb 

Are happier perchance in this 
Than dimly glimmering 

With cheated hopes of worldly bliss, 
Near the wan mind hovering. 

Oh, happier thus in apathy 

Than, in its dread uncertainty 



SKETCH. 1 1 1 

The dark intangible, with all 

Its weight of presence, lost, unknown, 

Its empty fulness, shadowy pall. 
Its thronging forms, and yet alone 1 

Thus half unseen to Ermie's eye, 
Thus crowding in its fallacy 
On many a wildly watchful glance 
Which shot from out that healing trance, 
With all that might its woe enhance — 
That scene dwelt on her memory. 
Present when gone, unseen when near, 
Forever burst upon her ear \ 
Forever danced before her eye 
The vivid flash that lit the grove, 
The lighted rock, the pallid cove ; 
Then flitting past, as sudden gone. 
The gasp, the mound, the dying groan ; 
Then all confused, imperfect thought 
Upon her wandering fancy wrought 
And burned upon her heated brain 
In madness till it burst again. 



On the edge of a tangled and shaded wood 
With gun and with bow the Indian stood ; 
He paused for one glance at the shelterless 
Alone, alone in her sore distress, 
A trackless wood, and no star above, 
Alone with her god, whose name was love. 



112 SKETCH. 

In a dell he paused to rest him soon, 
And wait for the strife of the coming moon. 
Swiftly, swiftly the waters flowed, 
But faster yet the boat flew by, 
For steadily on the boatman rowed 
To a rock which pointed silently 
From the dark recess of a mimic bay, 
To the waning light of a starless sky. 
Where rocking to rest the boat might lay ; 
For the jutting cliff which frowned on high 
Had checked the eddying waters' play. 
But why does the stranger guide his boat 
Where still unseen on the wave it may float, 
Nor shelter seek of the vine- clad cave ? 
But lately to the tide it leapt, 
And now like a child that calmly slept, 
' Hung on the curtained wave. 
A moment's silence reigned around, 
A moment and no more ; 
A sudden flash hath lit the scene, 
A moment showed the stranger's mien ; 
Echo hath caught a martial sound 
From that peaceful shore. 
Shouted, and paused, and screamed again — 
And all is o'er. 

As when a dream hath burst in fire, 
So keen and clear the mission dire, 
She springs to life, a daughter brave. 
The rippled moonhght on the wave 



SKETCH. 113 

She saw, and knew, alas ! she knew 
No fear for him ! How sadly true ! 
How shall she cease her watcli and ward, 
So late his all, his sleepless guard ! 

So weeps the mother o'er the bier 
Of her poor, pallid orphan boy, 
When falls for him no other tear, 
No voice bore gladness to his ear, 
No welcome smile was bright with joy. 
Fruition of no happy hope, 
No home in life's wide horoscope, 
Of such the woe without reHef, 
Love's pity, saddening more than grief! 

A life with tender cares enwreathed, 
A name on which no censure breathed ; 
A home by yonder golden shore. 
With broad and equal skies above ; 
Some sheltered tears, no terror more, 
A sorrow shared, a sorrow sheathed ; 
One bitter woe, one cherished love, 
Alone she bore. 



114 CHANGE. 



CHANGE. 



Morning Hymn. 



Oh, let me worship ! Worship all the earth'! 
Not with the moment's breathless ecstasy, 
But calm and pensive, with the mind adore ; 
Wake to the morning with the gift of prayer. 
When first thou shalt unveil our wondrous home, 
And when of labor blest thou spread'st the fruit ; 
When jocund noon basks panting on the plain. 
Or holy night is crowned with conscious dreams, 
Or, lingering on the mountain top at eve, 
Drops her maternal kisses, one by one, 
As gleam by turns o'er watching cliffs, the stars. 
For thou O garnished earth, in pride of change, 
To whom God's love is light, around his throne 
Refulgent, hath in triumph oft-times sung 
Thy long, exultant shout of liberty. 
Seasons have come and gone ; Winter hath ruled, 
Oft in his turn, thy fortunes many-dowered ; 
And Summer's modest garment oft hath rent, 
And clad the mailed trees in shattered sunshine. 
And he hath given back Spring's sullen frown. 
Sullen and solemn, like a despot crowned. 
Who sees the conqueror's sword and will not flee. 



J^VE HAVE LOOKED ON LIFE.'' 1 15 



WE HAVE LOOKED ON LIFE.' 



We have looked on life, and it shrunk to decay ; 

We have lived for its pleasures, they passed away, — 

Its trophies of art, and they could not stand, — 

Our loved, and they fled from the grasp of our hand. 

We gave our affections, — death stretched forth his rod ; 

Oh, nothing will last but the throne of God ! 

Our spirits may cling to that lofty throne. 

When, fading and fleeing, all else has gone, — 

Sea, earth, star, and sun, — but that will last 

Through the waves of eternity rushing past. 

Lo ! here we stand 'mid the ruins of time ; 

All is fleeting but He the Sublime ! 

Oh, He is untouched by change or decay, 

Though our loved and their beauty have passed away ! 

Salem, July, 1829. M. H. S. 



Il6 '^CALM, SOFT, AND STILL.'' 



CALM, SOFT, AND STILL." 



Calm, soft, and still the sea on high ; 

The quiet stars come sailing on. 
Freighted with love's most precious ore ; 

They walk the waters, one by one, 
And brave the clouds 'twixt earth and sky, ■ 

The broken waves which lash the shore 1 



October 9, 1833. 



TO MISS MITFORD. 11/ 



TO MISS MITFORD, 
On Receiving from her kindness, " Atherton." 

A SORROWING angel folded misty wings 

O'er the fair temple of my home beloved. 

His the broad crown which bandeth brows of thought 

O'er lips whose smile unfading is but trained ; 

The sceptre his of care with sigh suppressed 

Of tenderest pity ; love, with step restrained, 

Which turneth not from lightest household charge, 

Yet treadeth all unheard in darkened halls, 

And pauseth near the couch of infant woe, — 

Beauty's most sad, and yet most deHcate 

And perfect, miniature. The angel stood, 

With holiest blessing in his holy eye ; 

And on the expanse of shadowy clouded wings 

We felt the shadow, while we knew the love. 

Dear friend, slow moons had looked, one by one, 
Upon my strength ; before their gaze it waned. 
And hours were heavy. Gentle Florence paled ; 
Bright Willie's merry hp with pain was curled ; 
And playful Beatrice closed in constant woe 
Those eyes so patient sweet in holy love. 
No more with shrilly song amid the hay. 



Il8 TO MISS MITFORD. 

Or, hidden, found no more by rounded arm, 

Deep in the leafy bed of mounded shrub. 

All heavy heaving in the twilight breeze ; 

Nor strawberries pilfering, with glee confessed. 

Was laughing Lizzie, golden-haired. Afar 

We bore them softly, sheltered in our hearts, 

Bore them to summery South and sunnier skies. 

So scenes all hallowed to past memories 

Are hoUer now, because their feeble feet 

Have trod the cultured sward ; their lips have prayed 

Where domes o'erhung their father's voice in prayer ; 

Their ears have heard, where Marshall's fostering hand 

And venerated wisdom blessed my youth ; 

Their hands have touched the bar where honored sat 

Long in their country's Senate my own sire ; 

And, where Potomac sweeps to Vernon's shades 

Their twofold heritage of welcomes old, 

Their eyes have watched her waves. And friends — 

Dearer for absence, tried in trials, more beloved 

For this than all — have clustered too, watching, 

Around my babes, the while their mother failed. 

Home ! Bear the mother to her waiting home ; 
Around her let the wild breeze come and go, 
Tossing the snowy drapery of her couch ; 
Around her let the greeting maples wave, 
Tulip-tree, linden, pine, and tree of life 
Again, and elms their softened welcome nod ! 
Bring to her gladdened eye the flowers of home ! 
Hark ! let the twitter of the new-born bird, 



TO MISS MITFORD. 1 19 



Almost another child, salute her ear ; 
And bring one leaflet from the embosomed bower 
Which sent its crimson life-blood o'er the wave, 
For noble Switzerland the leafy crown ! 



Now tell me " not to think ! " Bid me forget 
The long anxiety of waning moons ! 
Go, toss the cloudlet in the glancing sun, 
And bid it take no shadow from the earth. 
When transient eve puts in her casual claim ! 

Brmg me some talisman of olden time, 
Some beaker with an anodyne more strong 
Than giant Memory, then with grasp of fire, — 
A chloroform, can cloud both light and truth. 
Or gentle ether, soothing both to peace ! 

" Come, take your Shakespeare, then ; to thee, my love, 
Ever the soother of the o'ertried hour." 
" Nay, Shakespeare ! with that spell I cannot cope. 
So am I worn that I am all unfit." 
" Byron." " Too much of travel and unrest." 
" Take Dickens, Hawthorne, — " " Dark with too much 

light; 
Give me the newspapers, and I '11 read Man'^ 
So passed the sun o'er half his heaven of toil. 
Nor was I weary of the creature Man. 
Yet came refreshing change, for then his step, 
Wliich ever brings me blessing full of love, 
Drew near again. " Lo, dear, a welcome gift ! 



120 TO MISS MITFORD. 

A hand revered has sent you * Atherton.' " 

Now then uprose the hand to greet the gift ! 

Uplifted, too, the burthen of the past ; 

And, while I bowed to magic Nature's feet, - 

Back came the freshness of my girlhood's prime ; 

Gone was the flush that tinted girlhood's cheek, 

But glowed the same young thrill about my heart. 

I trod the hedgerows of fair England's lanes, 

And gladly lost me in the tangled shade, 

'Mid many-tinted individual flowers. 

Each with its character as clear as name. 

Lo ! buxom girl and bowler picturesque. 

Upon the fleckered pathway note me not, 

The while I listen to the chat of life, 

The counsel ever wise of earnest love, — 

Words of unyielding truth and yielded heart. 

" Lo ! " said I, smiling the old quiet smile, 

" Here I have studied Nature too, — and Man." 



THE WEDDING DAY. 121 



THE WEDDING DAY. 



Thou wilt not write a poem now 
To me, my love, to me, — 

Ten years ago, ten years ago, 
A bride so dear to thee ? 



'T is I must say the tender things. 
Must say I love thee, dear. 

The more, my love, oh ! all the more, 
For every passing year. 



The more for every fond caress 
That makes our Fonnie's joy ; 

The more for every smile of love 
Cast bright on " Willie boy ; " 



The more for every silent kiss 
Our little Wild- Rose wears : 

The more for tender memory 
Which other forms endears. 



122 THE WEDDING DAY. 

But these are things thought, said, or sung. 
Throughout the hbelled earth, 

By many a tuneful, trutliful tongue. 
Since hymned tlie stars her birth. 

I '11 tell thee something wonderful, 

That I alone may know, — 
Though thou didst doat upon me then, 

As well thou lov'st me now. 

I gaze without a shade of doubt 

Upon that noble brow ; 
I am not jealous of myself, 

Thy bride ten years ago. 

And if, as fades this passing year, 

Shall fade thy Mary's life, 
My last mute prayer of praise shall be 

*^ Ten years I was his wife." 



1849. 



MOTHER'S CHRISTENING BOWL.'' 1 23 



"HERE'S MOTHER'S CHRISTENING BOWL." 



Here 's mother's christening bowl, heavy for baby ; 

Willie is tearing his book on the grass ; 
Lizzie has climbed on the chair by the chimney 

And, with hands full of grapes, sits alone at the glass. 

" O mother, dear mother, we 're all of us olding ! 

Myself I am five, and they mind me no more ; 
You must get some new little ones, cunning and cosey ; 

Let 's each have a baby and give it a flower ! " 



124 FRAGMENT. 



FRAGMENT. 



I LOST my early home ; its roof half hid 

In sighing trees, with lips all quivering 

To drink the summer's kisses ; its cool fount — 

My first, best luxury ; its garden wide, 

And grassy courts where I was the ant's friend. 

And walled his fortress round with bootless love ; 

Its latticed gate which grazed the gnarled root 

Of sky-borne foliage ; entrance ever free 

For glad admittance to a grandsire's halls, 

Save where a twining rose, from loftier swathe 

Unloosed by frolic winds, had bound its hinge — 

Oh ! where the reverend form which filled these halls 

With ever-new delights for childish love ! — 



''DEAR MOTHER.'' 125 



DEAR MOTHER." 



Dear mother ! many years have passed 
Since cahii on thee I looked my last, — 

So strongly nerved to check my tears, 
I could not weep thee even in prayers. 

And still, in brighter scenes, I start 

And sudden heave the struggling sighs ; 

And arid still within my heart 
The memory of thy suffering lies. 

Oh, loving gentle was thy life, 

When on it came that solemn day ; 

And hard to see, in mortal strife, 
Thy spirit pass alone away. 

The present fondly smiles for me, 
I gently tread my downward way ; 

Confiding love and childhood's glee. 
They bless me, mother, day by day. 



126 ''DEAR MOTHER.'' 

And if it fall, the evening shower, 

With twilight peace thou drawest nigh ; 

But most when shines the brilliant hour 
I miss thy joyful symj^athy. 

Yes ! mid the pageant when I stand, 
I miss thy tone maternal, mild ; 

In sickness, free the friendly hand, — 
I miss thy word " My precious child ! " 

Farewell — farewell ! This hour to thee 
Hath borne its freight of saddened love 

Back from that calm but shadowed sea, 
To sunlit waves my thoughts remove. 



ALONE. 127 



ALONE. 

Couch of low and simple lines ; 

Bust of curves as purely Grecian ; 
Wardrobes dark and mirrors old ; 

Sunshine soft with blinds Venetian ; 
Sketchings, — one, the Causeway grand, 

Giants roam in mute contrition ; 
One, the head revered and loved, 

Familiar now in scenes Elysian. 

Softened shadows : stillness, made 

Sweeter by the balmy shading ; 
Studied tints of hues that fade ; 

Hues that harmonize in fading ; 
Spring's Hght fragrance, — half a dream. 

Conscious half, — the room invading ; 
Mellowed hush of sweeping breeze, 

Half unfelt, the air pervading. 

Sunk in rest, I silent sit, — 

Absorbing sit, my bosom heaving ; 
Voice unuttered stirs its depths ; — 

I answer, smiling, half believing — 
More than half love — choking sobs, 

Sobs indulged, the load removing. 
Are not grief, with thee so near ; 

Only loving ! only loving ! 

April, 1866. 



NEAR IF AFAR. 



NEAR IF AFAR. 



My absent, holy love ! I sometimes fear, — 
My sun of earthly suns, my dawn, my even, — 

More than when at my side, I fear, I fear 

Thou standest between me and God in heaven. 

What charity than thine can be more fair 
I see not ! In thy heart what virtue rose ! 

I measure virtue by the model there, 
And in thy trust I feel that I repose. 

Thy candor and yet reticence of soul. 
Open as sunshine, save one patient woe ; 

Thine insight keen, which knew and pardoned all, — 
How couldst thou love, ah ! love so well, yet know ? 

Even so do Thou forgive, who lov'st alway ; 

Whose glory lighteth our poor lamps, else dim ; 
If by his light I come, 't is Thine the ray ; 

He for God only, I for God in him. 



DEVEREUX BEACH. . 129 



DEVEREUX BEACH. 



Rocked upon thy billowy motion, 
Bom upon thy sounding shore, — 

Ever mid thy music, ocean, 

I have heard the words " No more.' 



Echo brings her broken verse ; 

Harmonies of yore, of yore — 
Memory 's murmuring choristers — 

Crowd thy sounding, sounding shore. 

Oh the winged, winged words, 
Oh the busy thoughts that throng. 

Like the many tuned birds 
In thine atmosphere of song ! 

Deepest mid thy music, ocean, 

Swells the moan, " No more, no more. 

Sighing with thy heaving motion 
On thy sounding, sounding shore. 



1^0 THE PROCESSION. 



THE PROCESSION. 



This midnight hour, this hour of dread, 
When terror bows each shrinking head, 
When waving forms of shadowy dead, 

'T is said, hold dreadful revelry ! 
The old year and the new have met, 
But dare not stay their courses fleet 
And will not even as sisters greet. 

But frown in horrid rivalry ! 
I see, I see a shadowy band. 
With motion slow and upraised hand 
As musing on some dread command 

Which blackened o'er their destiny ; 
And to each form a curled scroll 
Of names w^hich fiery hands enroll, 
And o'er each name a kindred soul 

Hovers in deadly apathy. 
It cannot stay the hand of fire. 
Obstruction mocks the fierce desire, 
Which urges and can ne'er expire 

Through lingering futurity. 
The years, the years, they glide away 
In long procession, wan array. 
Their headlong course they will not stay, 

But rush into eternity ! 

1828-1829. 



FAIR HISTORY. 131 



FAIR HISTORY. 



Fair History, 
Immortal maid, with open brow and eye 
Unveiled, all mournful, silent stood, recording crime. 
Pausing between the meeting years. Old Time, 
With withered finger thoughtfully upraised, 
Counts one by one the shadowy throngs that gazed 
By turns on the far sun of fame, and dreamed 
Fondly to make its lustre theirs. And lo ! 
Where at his side, with clasped hand on brow 
Sits Memory, reviewing, tear-bedimmed. 
Each form by Truth's unwav'ring light : from where, 
Bright, pure, and blessed in Eden, the first pair. 
With all unsoiled and bright and blest around, 
Stood fearlessly, and there, where did abound 
All good, crept the dark evil on ! 
Happy and beautiful, oh, even there shone 
The shorn and struggling glory ! Thence Memory 
Behind each passing form, on each young eye. 
O'er each fair brow, by each fond clasping hand. 
And by each lip of eloquent teachings. 
O'er patriot's cell, and in the home of kings ; 
Beholds the veiled shadow watching stand ! 

Thence her uncertain, half-bewildered aid. 
Aye, through that shadow looks the misty maid ; 
Hope, sobbing, at her feet lies, gathering thorns ; 
And chilled herself, by her example warns. 



132 FAIR HISTORY. 

High Impulse, maimed, less firmly holds her way, 

Ambition's pyre but lures men to betray ; 

The dazzling deeds to which man links his name 

Are but the monumental stones of fame. 

And night and shadow were with Time. From far 

Through vista'd years scarce beamed truth's glimmering 

star. 
And Hate and Envy did their evil things 
Where noisy tumult levelled feeble kings, 
And good was weak. Intoxicate on rushed 
Mad Bigotry, with drinking blood all flushed, 
Rending Religion's robe, who bleeding fled 
Afar with her torn hands and feet, and head 
She " knew not where to lay," — to thorny wood, 
Dim shade, where she, the conquering all of good. 
Enduring sat, queUing the tempter still. 
With sound of battle-trump and deeds of war. 
On came young Genius, with his torch-bearer ! 
As pierced tradition's light the thickening gloom, 
Gilding alike each trophy of the tomb, 
And glancing free o'er banner, sword, and plume ; 
And as it flung around its rainbow hue. 
And, painting, hung with beauties ever new 
Th' entrancing forms of that delusive band, — 
The warrior's pride of strength, fair woman's charms, — 
Tradition wildly shook the glowing brand. 
And Glory, dreaming, smiled, and stretched his infant 
arms ! 

1827. 



ISHMAEL. 133 



ISHMAEL. 

O IsHMAEL, was that a curse, 
From out the mouth of God, 

That followed thee throughout the earth. 
Where'er thy free foot trod? 

" Lo, at thy feet the human waves 
Of wrath-roused earth are hurled ; 

The world 's upon thee, Ishmael : 
Thy hand against a world ! " 

O Ishmael, was that a curse, 

When, with a broken spear. 
Thou stood'st above a prostrate world. 

And left that world a bier? 

Was that, O Ishmael, a curse. 

Which gave into thy hand 
The power to think thy chosen thoughts. 

The might to seize thy land? 

O Ishmael, was that a curse. 
That thou should'st stand alone, 

To gaze with thy unshadowed eye 
Upon Jehovah's sun ? 



134 ISHMAEL. 

O Ishmael, was that a curse. 

That far and free thy mind, 
Tlirough God's own works to God's own throne, 

Should'st wander unconfined ? 

O Ishmael, was that a curse, 

When fallen Judea's soul 
Sent o'er the earth the mighty Word, 

Ample to save the whole ? 

O Ishmael, was that a curse. 

Knowing but " God is One," 
With but a half-extinguished torch. 

At most, a clouded sun? 

O Ishmael, was that a curse. 

That thou alone, apart, 
Could'st see, and choose, the only ray 

That fell upon thy heart ? 

O Ishmael, was that a curse. 
The while thy great heart turned 

At but a glimmering of that light, 
And quick within thee burned ? 



CONIVAV. 13^ 



CONWAY. 



Grand Egypt hath no entrance-hall like thine, 
Up to the pillared zenith half divine ; 
Yet portals wider from this solemn land 
Open. Age, smiling, seeks a loftier strand ; 
And holy Infancy, by sorrow chained. 
Enduring, weeping, patient still, though pained, 
Hath left its broken fetter in our hands. 
Ah, what the ocean, these its upheaved sands? 



36 FLOWERS AT THE SILENT GORGE. 



THE FLOWERS AT THE SILENT GORGE. 



Light of the shadowy pass, 

Toy of the wind, 
Child of the mountain gorge, 

Bahii to the mind ! 

Thousand the fragile blooms, 

Fair without heed, 
God gives the golden bee 

Whereon to feed. 

Noon gives you sunny smiles ; 

Morn bade you weep. 
God sends you death and sleep ; 

Hist ! you shall sleep ! 



BABY WISHES. 1 37 



BABY WISHES. 



Who doth bring with dewy dyes 

Peace that lives when effort dies, 

Softened hour which softly flies ? 

Thou canst see with sweet surprise 

Bliss from every source arise, 

Mother's kiss and Conway's skies, — 

Thou art wise, and overwise ; 

Thy wishes should be prophecies. 

" Good-by ! " and other beckoning, " Come ! 

I '11 take, dear, to my shadowed home. 



138 Sl/NSET NEAR THE MOUNTAINS. 



SUNSET NEAR THE WASHINGTON RANGE. 



Grand mountain range, whose mightiest name 

A world hath paused to hear, 
How heavy on your ancient frame 

The shadows dense and near ! 

Yet low in Crawford's Valley small 

The sun pours laughing light, 
While high on solemn mountain wall 

Twin rainbows wed the night ; 

And deep amid the graceful sweep 

Of sloping outlines grand, 
The chasm of Crawford's awful gorge 

Controls a silent land. 

Soft sighs by yonder torrent dread, 

While billowy storms rejoice, 
The tender lesson of the dead — - 

And sounds the still, small voice. 



The great historic avalanche of 1826, which swept away the 
Willey family, still bears the Eidelweiss on the vast grave, a 
levelled extent of rock and gravel, where reposes the little in- 
fant which was never found. 



THE OCEAN CHAIR. 139 



I 
I 



THE OCEAN CHAIR 

At the Isles of Shoals. 



The storm, the storm, the grand old storm, 
His triumph achieved, sends his smile abroad ; 
He tosseth the sea in the sunbeams warm, 
Toyeth with \vrecks, and shouteth to God. 
She quivers and fawns in his pitiless sight, 
Dimples, and bribes with jewels amain, 
Tinteth with mists, and fiercely again 
Flingeth her waves with a fearful ring. 
Vainly battering the terrible rock, — 
The walls of rock which sternly upspring 
Right, right from her heart, with shock on shock 
For the ocean-surge. A measure of wrath ! 
The wrath of years, as one by one 
Each shallow ledge marks the dreadful path 
Where the storm spirit leaps to his victory won ! 
On the upper ledge he hath grooved a chair. 
Whose chair ? Hath He ever clambered there 
Hoarsely to count, where the billows roar. 
Victims and wrecks on his beautiful lair? 
To scream at the far-bristling, tower-lit shore 
New England's vain watching, toilsome care. 
For sons on this brilliant, changeful sea ; 
(Great signals to guide her absent flock 



140 THE OCEAN CHAIR. 

Bound homeward ;) while he, in horrid glee, 
Laughs, as down dashed on the hidden rock 
Fall bars of iron, fail skill and toil ! 
Shuddering afar beneath sheltering dome. 
Safe Hstening to ocean's dread turmoil, 
Dreams woman of icy ropes, at home. 
Whose chair? Lo, soft on the cHff above 
Waves snowy mande, treads trembUng foot ; 
Man, all too tender to woman's love, 
Guides, guides the maiden, so never jar. 
Frame so gentle shall shake or mar. 
Out she gazed on the gleaming sea, 
That is, and has been, and shall be, 
With failing foot on sloping slide, 
O'er billows of dead rock petrified. 
Every flower was a culture gone, 
A broken threshold each shelving stone ; 
Each glossy leaf is a poison brave. 
Each ledge a fragment, each sod a grave. 
In each black gully, an Indian dart 
Had frightened the mother in woman's heart. 
Men say the love God hath loved and sealed, 
There had shuddered and known to yield. 
Past silent close and the narrow house 
Stood lone and chill the marble pile. 
Where Smith had hailed Agamenticus, 
With Saracen turbans crowned about. 
These had he slain, the adventurer stout. 
And given their names to the triple Isle, 
Which looked on New England's Jerusalem, 
Ere Pocahontas had looked on him. 



THE OCEAN CHAIR. 141 

Sad, sad with the doom of a royal soul ; 
Savior and victim — hers the roll. 
O farewell kiss to her rugged strand, 
O warm heart chilled in a stranger land ! 

'- Nay, hand so fair on this jagged edge ! 
One step, love, you reach the upper ledge ; 
Seat thee, where spirits claim their birth. 
Seat thee, O Queen of our Island Earth ! " 
Thus love cradleth fear on that awful seat. 
Scooped on the ledge, lo, the Ocean Chair ! 
Now almost spirit she sitteth there. 
How far, O soul of that gentle form, 
Slialt thou outride the soul of the storm ; 
How, with the rush of thy hope divine 
Shall triumph of His be lost in thine ? 
Nevermore in thy Island home, oh, nevermore. 
Shall love meet the loved on the sobbing shore. 
Shall myriad ocean charm heart and eye 
With blissful glow, and with happy sigh. 
She sitteth there, she sitteth there. 
On the curved ledge of the Ocean Chair. 
Awful the tidal wave heaves from beneath. 
Plays and recedes, then swoops to death 
All, all but the heaven of love and joy 
That burthens the heart with ecstasy, — 
All, all but the heaven of love and joy 
Bourgeoning there where they cannot die, 
Free and bright in a sunless sky. 
For God is the light thereof on high. 



142 THE MUMMIED FLOWERS, 



THE MUMMIED FLOWERS. 



Nay, nay, — unto the flowers is given 

Perfect beauty, perfect love ! 
Perfect love from pitying heaven 

With its children ever strove ! 
Ah, detain not for harsh gaze 
That which came from love, for praise, 
Gentle breath, and soft approach. 
Coaxing hopes, mayhap reproach ! 
Theirs the patience born of noon ; 
Gave God ever a free boon 
'T is the manna none retain — 

But gather more again ! 
Bind not with unkind skill 

Their sweet will ! 
We have Moses and the prophets, and the flowers 

With the incense of their breath ; 
Give them that in which they trust ! 
They pass on the breath of the passing hours, — 

Give them death ! 
Lay their gentle heads in dust ! 
From the brooklet, from the hedge. 
Teaching, loving, (with a pledge 
But to smile) and lo ! 
They may go. 



I 
I 



THE MUMMIED FLOWERS. 143 

Their pleading forms they raise, 

And soft implore the eye, 
With a bhss too full for praise, 

With a breath too soft for sigh ! 
Their tears are not their own ; 
Weeping angels by the Throne 
Where love is softened light. 
When they kiss the flowers at night, 
The sweet flowers all alone. 
Leave them theirs, — for they deem 
A tear heaven's rarest gem. 

They are fleckings of eternity. 

From the brooklet, from the hedge, 

Teaching, touching, with a pledge, — 

Holy hope, shall it fail ? — 

Weary work for frame so frail 
Brief shall be ! 

Each a soul, which hath prayed 
Once to come 

Nigh unto the loved ones strayed. 

Giving gentle hints of heaven, 
And go home ; 

Such the holy promise given, — 
To go home ! 

September, 1864. 



144 ^/^ LAST DREAM. 



MY LAST DREAM. 



Seek not my home, dear love, when I am gone, 
Roam not in ruined abbey where I dwell, 
Lest, charming all things with so dear a spell, 

One tear benumb my Dream upon his throne, — 

All I bore with me of a rosy hue 

Left there eterne to dwell with thy last kiss, 
Prolonged forever with that murmured bliss. 

Thou wilt have tears, nor canst that bliss renew ! 

Let no chill shadow die, love, in thy sun ; 

Ah, make no war, sweet child, with silence sweet. 
Thou too art holy ; turn thy holy feet. 

For sacred silence will be all alone ; 
While little breezes, childish footsteps nourish. 
And happy hushing things, — my Dream shall flourish. 



//OIV MUCH THOU CI VEST ME. " 1 45 



HOW MUCH THOU GIVEST ME." 



How much thou givest me, O gentle maid, 
Yet in sweet parley givest me the grace. 
Lo, beauties which demand a royal place ; 

Behold the virtues all in thee displayed. 

I name, then fondly dwell on them again ; 

Of whom should lovers speak, with loving bent ? 

I do but number each with sweet intent. 
And ring sweet changes in the ears of men. 

What music should I sing, and with what word ? 

I nothing find in me which others give ; 

So with my harp no other harp can live. 
All harmony is thine, and no discord. 
Having no strings with thy sweet name to jar. 
So nothing can they make, so nothing mar. 



14^ " JV£: KNOW NOT. 



"WE KNOW NOT." 

We know not half the pretty prayer 
Sigh or kiss hath given to air ; 
Half the perfume of the wreath 
Lays not on the wind's soft breath. 

The creeper busy on the bower, 
Hardly knew when fell the blossom ; 
So calm and pure the tender hour, 
Hardly heaved the gentle bosom. 

The lark abroad in sun or sky 
Rejoiceth there, nor thinks to fly ; 
And while he pours the imprisoned notes, 
Hardly knows the why he floats. 

Soft, oh soft the waves shall close 
O'er the wreck below their tides ; 
The empty quiver never knows 
Where the shuddering arrow flies. 

Take my deep devotion, dear ! 
Tears were idle, if they fell ; 
No claim I have to win thine ear, — 
Trust the love I cannot tell. 



MY FATHER. 147 



MY FATHER. 



Lo ! the almond tree doth flourish 
Bright on age's cloudless hill ; 

Songs of birds and maids him nourish, 
Flows for him the unshrinking rill. 

Sun and moon and stars him nourish, 
And his door is open still ! 

None may count the loving tones 

Thence he gives Thy little ones. 

Father ! when each cherished token 

Fades into eternity ; 
When the silent chord hath spoken 

Out its last notes full and free ; 
When the golden bowl is broken, — 

Guide the spirit pure to Thee ! 
He hath taken here good heed : 
Be Thou with him in his need ! 



\ 



148 NAPOLEON. 



NAPOLEON. 



A WORLD thy bauble, and a world thine own ! 

And thou — alas, why would'st thou not be great? 
How small a target, but to mount a throne ! 

Could'st thou not love, and make a mighty fate ? 
A continent, a child ? Love writes a living past. 
And he alone who vastly loves is vast. 
One name is written on the universe ; 
Thine but emblazons France's greatest hearse ! 



Medallions of Napoleon. 



I 



I 




Marie Louise at the Petit Trianon. 



THE PAVILION. 1 49 



THE PAVILION. 



Kings, near yon pavilion resplendent, 

Feasted friend, and were slaughtered by foe ; 

And here a crowned vision, transcendent. 
Darkened dim 'mid the night of her woe. 

When, Freedom, thy spirit ascendant, 
Indignant left license below. 



I50 ITALY. 

ITALY. 

(1854.) 

O Italy ! who wearest 

The Sibyl's wreath and charms. 

And lorn and scrolled bearest 
Thy dead within thy arms, — 

Soothsayer of past ages, 
Cassandra of to-day ; 

Unperishing thy pages, 
In thy heart is thy decay. 

In thy bosom where they lie 
O'er thy lifeless children bow ; 

Thine heritage are they. 
All sad with treasures thou ! 

Where music fed old Time 
In high M^cenas' home ; 

Where Virgil polished rhyme 
In crushed Pompeii's tomb ; 

Where Scipio, golden-hearted. 
Where Caesar's silver tongue, 

In thy hall of the departed 
Its deepest echoes rung ; 



ITALY. 151 



Where sleep, pale, fair, an4 deadly, 
Treads soft thy golden plain, 

And loving sunshine daily 
Smiles silent all in vain ; 

Where nations' woe and loss 
Swelled high thy pageant pride ; 

Where led the holy Cross 
O'er Tiber's yellow tide ; 

On Milan's terraced garden ; 

In Florence' starry tower, 
Where trod the church's warden 

His little path of power ; 

Where Etruria tearless stands. 
Like Phidian Pallas shorn — 

Weeps the robber on the hands 
Whence the jewels he has torn ; 

Where Como's magic glory 
And pleading beauties play, 

While Alpine mountains hoary 
Her bidding hear, and stay, — 

From South to furthest North 
We seek thy fadeless charms ; 

Thou lorn one boldest forth 
Thy dead within thine arms ! 

April 15, 1854. 



152 WASHINGTON'S BIRTHPLACE. 



WASHINGTON'S BIRTHPLACE. 

For a Memorial Marble. 

If e'er maternal love through tearful gloom 
Smiled on a hope unburied in the tomb, 
Plere, with nor sackcloth vest, nor tresses torn, 
Pause memory, v^here a nation's hope was born ! 




George Washingjon. 




Mrs. Washington. 



THE CUP. 



153 



THE CUP. 



Put aside thy smaller state, 
Learn to labor and to wait. 
Work ! perchance thy God will give ; 
Study thou with Him to live. 
Other feet may tread the floor ; 
Thou mayst stand without the door. 
Waken then, O dreaming sleeper ; 
Lepers dance, be thou the keeper. 
If God say, " Still ! " — no will ajar. 
Watch the wrestlers strong from far, — 
Patient while the fiery fray 
Others join, but thou shalt pray ! 
Courage high, and restless heart. 
Urging love and friends apart ; 
All to do and nothing done. 
Having strength the race to run. 
Bound, while treads the midday sun \ 
Hopes half born, that die for one — 
One without an answering smile ; 
Griefs indulged that waste the while ; 
Bitter thoughts that eat the soul, — 
On God's altar lay the whole. 
Thou shalt see the world go by, 
Given and paid thy youth of joy ; 



154 THE CUP. 

Gladness that shall never swell, 
Woe incomprehensible. 
Thou would'st be with God instead ? 
Eat thou of His daily bread ! 
Thou shalt be at one to-morrow, 
Thou shalt not forget the sorrow, — 
Badge of sorrow reconciled, 
Type of love to suffering child. 



RUSSIAN WOMAN. 155 



RUSSIAN WOMAN. 



They are gone, all gone, — 
I left in this world alone ; 
Far amid light they rove, 
In their boundless, happy love. 
They do not remember me. 
And He, the friend of the lonely, 
God has forgotten me. 

I have known eyes that could love. 
Dumb things affection could move ; 
But the breast where I laid my head. 
And the hands that did cherish are dead. 
For me not their memory lives, 
Not a link to me survives. 
From the world of our common prayer 
And the bliss I never shall share, — 

I — I may not die ! 

God has forgotten me. 

I have seen smiles that were dead ; 
Those that did greet me are sped. 
My eyes, they are dry in their bed, 
Withered and scorched for aye. 
But I — broken, lone — but I — 
God has forgotten me ! 



/ 



156 RUSSIAN WOMAN. 

I have seen a hundred years ; 
I have scattered a thousand fears ; 
I have stifled sobs and tears ; 
For he is a God who hears 
The lone and the widowed cry. 
Said I — poor I 

God hath forgotten me. 

They tell of the one whom He on high 
Keeps for the last beneath the sky ; 
Now he is happier far than I ; 
And I am lonelier than he can be, — 
God has forgotten me. 



NATURE. 157 



NATURE. 



Lo ! where she lays the infant's patient charms 
First in the wondering mother's yearning arms, 
And half bewildered with successive bliss 
Gives young maternity's first long-drawn kiss, 

Doubtful of joy so new, the fount of health — 
The first sweet marvel of her bosom's wealth. 
The miser infant knows so well to find — 
Startles with new dehght her ravished mind. 

See ! she would feast as grows each ravished charm ; 
So binds the frolic babe the mother's arm. 
With rich abundance on his lip's soft joys, 
Struggles the pretty prodigal, his choice. 

Though closer held with sweetest petulance. 
Rather to meet the smiles of love which glance 
And chase each other, like the light of morn 
On the ripe meadow where the breeze is born. 



158 FRAGMENT, 



FRAGMENT. 



The burning blush which answers to his gaze, 
The timid eye which sinks beneath his praise, 
The glowing cheek which he hath dared to kiss, 
The yielded hand which trembling rests in his. 
The beating heart which throbs like prisoned dove, 
Th' avoiding lip that will not speak its love. 
The bending head he folds unto his breast. 
The hopes and fears entwined on him that rest. 



TO MRS. A Z, 159 



TO MRS. A Z: 

With Flowers, on the Opening of the Lectures 
AT her House. 



At times the useful by our side may sleep, 

If holy beauty wake, her ward to keep ; 

The dews of morn, the fragrant prayer of even, 

Alike from flowers as fruit ascend to heaven. 

Say whose the smile that hails, when scribes reprove. 

The costly perfume, fraught with human love ? 

Oh royal lily, — whose the patient eye 

Which felt the charming of your rich array? 

And who, with gentle pity, ever ours. 

Gave teeming earth her garniture of flowers ? 

The herd, the veined ore, the golden grove, 

The subject sea, were not enough for Love ! 



l6o LARK. 



LARK. 



Lapped in still air, she rests upon the light, 
Nor stirs the rapid wing which won her flight ; 
Then, hovering, stoops near woven flags to be, 
Where rest her nestlings by the frigid sea ; 
If safe the birdies in the mother's ken, 
With slant wing on the air to rise again. 



IF LOVE,'' i6l 



^'IF LOVE." 



If love be love let love be light ; 
Love is worthless, aught concealed ; 
Love exacteth nothing back, 
So we love, else love doth lack. 



l62 OCTOBER. 



OCTOBER. 



How calm, how clear the sense of sight, 
When hushed the day's discordant sound ; 

The hillside shades the sheltered light, 
While twilight closes chill around. 



How fixed the bounds of earth and sky, 
How firm the waving outlines flow ; 

And shorn awhile of needless ray, 

The round and painted moon runs low 



One little foot beneath her frock, 
The child sits, weary half, half cold ; 

Her tender arms the checkered cloak 
With tightening grasp about her fold. 



Ungraceful age, with stiffened gait. 
Rests from unpleasing deeds of good ; 

Man will not love, and dares not hate. 
The angel of the dusty road. 



OCTOBER. 163 

With dresses stained and aprons full, 

The shrinking babes are called and come ; 

One rosy hand the mother pulls, 
The other holds the hidden plum. 



The turkeys with unwonted weight 
Crowd with loud life th' unwilling tree. 

Puss seeks the house, 't is almost night. 

And lo ! the hearth's first fagot burns for me. 



l64 THE POPE'S BENEDICTION. 



THE POPE'S BENEDICTION. 



Upon a throne self-moving, 

Of purple and of gold, 
Lo ! slowly glides, 'mid incense clouds, 

A hoary man and old. 

Where stands that aged monarch, 
Earth's proudest had their birth ; 

In Southern skies, above him swells 
The proudest dome of earth. 

Oh, glorious deeds had hallowed 

In every age that shore ; 
And ignorance crowned sinned woful sins, 

Her soil was drunk with gore. 

There amid heathen darkness, 
There where th' apostle trod, 

Man life and hopes had offered up 
For country and for God ! 

There on holy victims' anguish 

A tyrant had looked down ; 
There the Roman had refused 

There the martyr sought a crown. 



THE POPE'S BENEDICTION. 1 65 

Oh still, Thou guiding God, 

All knowing yet all kind, 
Look gently on imperfect good. 

With pity on the blind. 

Bless, not this mighty pile 

Raised by the toil of years, 
But this blood-drenched and hallowed soil, 

Thine by its woe, love, tears ! 

For tears have here effaced 

Dread deeds in darkness done, 
And many a smile of holy light 

Here streamed on sinners won ! 

Bless, through that old man's lips, 

The many-fated crowd ; 
Bless woe and love, bless fear and joy. 

The wedding garb and shroud. 



1844. 



1 66 A ROYAL TRAIN. 



A ROYAL TRAIN. 



A FUNERAL train of royal pomp 

Passed where a stately barge was moored ; 
To swell its grandeur, blood-drenched earth, 

From all her haunts her millions poured. 

How France had decked that idol form. 
And knelt before the God she made ! 

But now her gaping artisans 

Revere the pomp, but not the Shade. 



They mocked each minor fault of taste. 
They criticised the funeral car ; 

But read not how the moral ran, 
When smote the mighty man of war 



Hath France's glowing heart no pulse, 
To falter when the loved are low ? 

In France is pity's passion hushed, — 
It heaves not at the signs of woe ? 



A ROYAL TRAIN. 167 

Within her noble city's walls, 

I paused beside two little biers j 
And all the train was love and woe, 

And throbbing hearts, and flowing tears. 

Each head was bare, each heart was still, 

Before the desolate and lone, — 
Where passed this sad funereal train. 

This majesty of Nature's own. 

For aye where stricken woe is found, 
Our God hath planted balm to heal ; 

So everywhere, oh ! everywhere, 
Are hearts to pity and to feel. 



l68 WILDCAT FALLS. 



WILDCAT FALLS. 



Moat Mountain on thy witchery looks down, 
The Giant Stairs above thee chill the day, 

Twin-brother floods look up to Washington, 
And I sit loving every golden ray. 

Bright, restless, shooting rays, by light embossed, 
Curled from young silver-birches on thy wave, 

In golden woof, like arrowy serpents crossed. 
Till half I shrink their chasing play to brave. 



Upon these quivering chords the waters thin 
Play to the pilgrim's ear a softened song, 

Ceaseless and full ; now pause, and, peering in, 
Send human grace where Nature's beauties thron 



See, lost, the mighty forests upward climb 

The awful mount which vision's self doth bound, 

Whose hoary grandeur swells in silent hymn. 
Filling yon path of blue without a sound, — 



WILDCAT FALLS. 169 

Watching the while upon its witching way 

Each petulant wavelet dance below unchecked, 

Through broad rocks all its own, with varied play, 
With broken wreath, and moss, and shadows decked. 

On many an angle sharp, like singing bird 

Springing from perch to perch, it leaps and sings ; 

From coigne to "coigne of vantage " it is heard. 
As young canaries on new-glittering wings. 

Now, first imprisoned, changed from frolic child. 
With fearful bound of wrath the narrowed stream — 

An angry panther in a hunt as wild — 

Gains, gleaming round and white, its Wildcat name. 

Now swollen and chafing at dear genial rains, 
It spreads, and fills its shelving bed, and roars 

With fall on fall I count anew in vain. 

Of fairest mountain haunts, — farewell, O fairest 
shores. 



I/O "/ OIVJV I DID NOT. 



"I OWN I DID NOT.' 



I OWN I did not say those words 

Too deeply felt, " Remember me ; " 
I wandered, Effie, but to seek 

This little gold I prized for thee. 
I went self-bound, I left thee free ; 

But my hand trembled, tears would flow. 
Was there a word, then, dearest love. 

Could tell thee aught thou did'st not know ? 
I will not, may not blame thee, Effie, 

Because my worship could not move ; 
I weep not, but I ne'er will look 

In other face for other love. 
There is no glance in other eye 

To call an answering beam in mine, 
It was so trained in former days 

To watch the light of thine ! 
And has, then, yearning love no sphere, 

Nought in the very air, 
A spirit-mansion freed from earth. 

That souls may mingle there ? 
I do not bring reproaches, love ; 

Nay, break not thou that lingering spell. 



I 



"/ OIVA' I DID NOT.'' 171 

Give me that little name of " Love," 

Till I have said farewell. 
I know — I know another arm 

Around thy form must twine, 
And I have heard thou wilt be wed 

To other fate than mine. 
And I have come to say to thee 

Much I would thou should'st know, 
Of many, many things, but oh. 

All, all forgotten now ! 
Yet do not think I came to tear 

My Effie from her chosen one. 
No ! let him keep the hand thou gav'st. 

And prize the heart he won. 
Nay ! hoard it, — watch the priceless gem 

Like miser o'er his store. 
He was more fitting mate for thee, 

But will not prize thee more. 
Yet he hath wealth and virtues high ; 

Blest with him may'st thou live. 
My little store it could not cope 
I . With all that he can give. 



172 "/ BRING THEE.'' 



I BRING thee; 



I BRING thee only tender fears, 

Unwonted sighs I cannot quell, — 
No burning words ! for starting tears 

Unwilling check what love would tell ; 
Yet hope, still hope ! for still that smile 

Can timid hope restore to me. 
And, chasing doubt, leave fear awhile ; 

Too blest and trembling, love, to flee ! 

Lo ! to her nest with ceaseless care 

The stork to guard her children flies ; 
Soon, borne by them through ambient air, 

She cleaves with fearless joy the skies. 
In such sweet hope, fond love hath hung 

Within thy heart her darling nest, 
To nurture there the winged young 

Shall waft her to her home of rest ! 



BY THE CLOSED PORTAL.'' I/: 



"BY THE CLOSED PORTAL. 



By the closed portal, with the flaming sword, 
Stood the sad angel, strong to keep the way ; 

And every way it turned before the Lord ; 
And he stood watching, faithful, day by day. 

To guard the tree, wide-spreading tree of life. 
An angel's might was not enough alone ; 

Oh, who shall arm thy feeble strength, young wife, 
Placed at the open gate before His throne ! 

Thine the long watch, to keep the way and ward ; 

Faithful, untired, to guard each spray and flower ; 
Thy need is twofold of the flaming sword. 

Which every way must turn, and every hour. 

Love in its fullest power, alone, must fail. 

Angel, elect for that young heart and soul, — 
God place within thine hands his armor all ; 

Helm, shield, rod, staff; go arm thee with the whole 



1876. 



\ 



174 PHILLIP SIDNEY COOLIDGE. 



PHILLIP SIDNEY COOLIDGE. 



" Somne veni ; quamquam certissima mortis imago ; 
Consortem cupis te tamen esse tui 
Hue ades, baud abiture cito ; nam sic sine vita 
Vivere quam suave est, sic sine morte mori." 

From Meleager. 



" Come hither, Sleep ! sure image thou of Death ; 

Yet be my bosom guest, nor quickly fly : 
Ah, stay ! to thee how sweet to yield the breath. 

Live without life, and without death to die ! " 

A Grecian's hope ! More blest, mid stars divine, 
On arts, on arms, shall sweet philosophy, 

Sidney ! inscribe a name so justly thine ; 

Living, to live indeed, and dying, not to die ! 

May 7, 1865. 



''AND ASK YE.'' 1/5 



AND ASK YE." 



And ask ye what within us echoes ocean's roar, 
When teeming earth holds nought our own — our own 
When the worn spirit finds response no more ? 
Desolate ocean hath but one wild moan, 
And each hoarse -dashing surge that smites the shore, 
Bears the unchanging cry, — alone ! alone ! 



176 ''HO! WATCHMEN. 



"HO! WATCHMEN." 

Ho ! watchmen of the starry host, 
Ye tell of double stars that boast 

A crimson morn and verdant eve. 
Give me — I will not count the cost — 
The coming of our paler sun, 
His smiles of welcome, one by one, 

His parting tears at eve. 
Ye say, 'mid yon unfathomed vault — 
Dim and indefinite as thought, 

While here unknown we grieve — 
Are new-born stars with bliss o'erfraught. 
I would not seek their radiant spheres ; 
Give me the hope, all sweet with fears, 
Give me the bUss that 's washed with tears, 

Bright morn and weeping eve ! 
Tears are the incense of the wise ! 
That bridge of light which spans the skies, 

They raise its ra.inbow arch. 
We turn from where the sun doth rise. 
Ere we can see its wildering rays ; 
On radiant clouds we upward gaze, 
To guide our heavenward march. 

iThis was a singular example of mental action in great suffer- 
ing, which the will was powerless to check.] 



1842. 



THE OIL-SHIP ON FIRE. 1 7/ 



THE OIL-SHIP ON FIRE. 



Still but gleaming was the shore ; 
Ships of war, at war no more, 
Boomed their sullen sunset roar, 

At Marseilles. 
Battle-ships of every flag — 
None like our gallant rag, 
On our Wabash and our Stag — 

Sleep at will. 

But at midnight burst aloud, 
With heavy fire and cloud. 
On the city like a shroud. 

One ship on fire ; 
And the city, still with fear, 
Pressed her shores, afar and near, 
A dark mass, with horror drear. 

And no word I 

In that pile of oil and flame 
Shall the brave, with never a name, 
And the city's marble frame. 
Pass away? 



1 78 THE OIL-SHIP ON FIRE. 

Lo, they hold their breath for awe j 
As one boat, all manned, they saw 
Pull out, with no hurrah, 
Ten — a score ! 

By Alden's dread command. 
Straight to that blazing brand, 
Swift, as to welcome land, 

, Stars and Stripes, they go ! 
Still, but gleaming was the bay ; 
Blows scuttling, as she lay. 
And the word to " pull away," 
Could be heard. 

From stem to stern all lashed, 

Columbia's boatmen, hushed. 

Pull ! and, following, out she rushed. 

The burning pile ! 
Then came the mighty cheer. 
From the town benumbed with fear, 
For homes, wives, and children dear. 

Saved that hour ! 



J 



WOMAN IN A ZULU TENT. 179 



WOMAN IN A ZULU TENT. 



I HAVE borne you, I have nourished ; 
How the dear head I have cherished, — 

I am sitting at it now, — ah me ! 
I have broke your bridal cake, dear. 
Loved your darling for your sake, dear ; 

I have cradled you and yours, — ah me ! 

Your children are around me. 

And their tender arms have bound me ; 

Your dear babies, — where are you? ah me ! 
When I led your pattering steps, darling. 
When I kissed your eyes and lips, darling, 

Oh, the heavens had no cloud for me. 

Your own bride has gone before, dear. 
And I know your heart was sore, dear : 

But who shall watch the day for me ? 
I shall have no more alarms, dear ; 
But I bore you in my arms, dear. 

And I 'm seated at your head, — ah me ! 



8o ''AT FORTY.'' 



"AT FORTY." 



At forty, Life's garland is faded, 
The freshness and glory are o'er ; 

But sixty fulfils manhood's promise, 
Enjoys, and is ready for more. 

At forty, comes wisdom with teachings, 
Life is tasted, and vanity left ; 

At sixty, man feels life a blessing, 
Renewing the blessings bereft. 

One can't but be saddened at forty, — 
Youth can never again be enjoyed ; 

But everything 's richer at sixty, 

In the now, with no future annoyed. 

With cigars, my dear Jerome, at forty. 
On a chair slowly linger the hours ; 

But the world 's bright and rapid at sixty. 
And love makes the other one ours.. 

June, 187 i. 



\ 



MUSIC. l8l 

MUSIC. 

To J. K. P. 

Sweet as the harp that gave to mom her tone, 

Responsive to the touch of light alone, — 

Its chords so well a nation loved of old, 

That Memnon's strains to them were fabled gold, — 

Pure as the infant drops in mountain-cleft. 

Cool as the glittering night by sunshine left ; 

Cool as the ripple of the thousand rills, 

Ere spent in vapor o'er the far ravine ; 

As waving leaflets new-born on the hills, 

When May enwreaths far Conway's icy sheen ; 

Chill as the horror of the prophet's dream, — 

Ice torrents, dry nurse of fair Arno's stream, 

To wild Arveiron wedded and divorced. 

Their waters hoarse in parting channels forced ; 

Or soft as lakelet on her pebbled bed. 

Of swelHng rivers through the unfailing head ; 

Or pulses of the happy girl unwon, 

Whose bliss is full, 'mid groves and flowers and sun, — 

Music divine with light doth flash and thunder. 

And roll, pause, rise, a harmony of wonder, 

Such streams of love entwine, and sobbing sunder. 



82 YOUTH. 



YOUTH. 



Poured freshly from the mountain's breast, 
In troubled light the streamlet flows, 

And seeks, ere long, its wild unrest 
Deep in the valley's heart to lose. 



All vainly for repose it hies 

To hush its trembling silvery sound ; 
The prisoned billows burst in sighs, 

The watching hills stand silent round ! 



\ 



LOVE. 183 



LOVE. 



Oh, man can seek the downward glance, 
Each murmured word, affection's spell ; 

Eye, voice, its value can enhance, 

For eye can speak and tongue can tell. 

But woman's love, it waits the while 

To echo to another's tone ; 
To linger on another's smile, 

Ere dare to answer with its own. ^ 



84 ''MID FROST THAT BLIGHTS. 



''MID FROST THAT BLIGHTS." 



Mid frost that blights and storm that rends, 

When wandering tears forget to stray, 
Wan memory shall forget the friends 
That soothed her on her dreary way. 
And when no more tears ache in the detaining eye, 
And earth is heaven, shall memory in oblivion die. 



MEMORY. 185 



MEMORY. 



Long hope ! hard treasury of woe, 

Sad echo, sorrow to recall, 
Fate ! brightest fate to meet, and know 

Man's luxury, and woman's all ! 

Come not to me, oh, not to me, 
In moonlight glory, as of yore ; 

To quiver over ocean's way. 

Shine, fade, and shine for me no more. 

With such a spell may woman cope 

For smiles too fond, too chilled for tears, 

How can such fear be timid hope. 

Such trembling hope be aught but fear? 



1 86 WOMAN'S AFFECT/OAT. 



WOMAN'S AFFECTION. 



How varied, strange, how all unfit. 
The deepest love of wayward man, 

For that soft shrine, all inly lit. 
Whose flame the winds quench not, nor fan ! 

On myrtle bough hangs woman's harp 
Of trembling chords ; it quivers o'er 

Love's careless sleep. Oh, if it break. 
Who shall its harmony restore ! 



O LADY MUCH BELOVEDS' 187 



O LADY MUCH BELOVED." 



[The departure of Mrs. was prevented by her unex- 
pected death.] 

O Lady, much beloved and much revered, 
Half consecrated form, to all endeared 
Even by those tears which cease awhile to flow, 
Before thy still, unutterable woe. 

Go, greet that island bride with saddened eye. 
Whose being, formed for softened melody, 
Might make the flowers and birds of tropic isle 
The sweeter for her voice, and fairer for her smile. 

Go, with thy pallid treasures, from our sight ; 
Go, breathe the freshness of a genial sky ; 
Go, bathe before us in the morning's light ; 
Go ! we shall bless the ray which cheers thine eye. 

For ye might gaze on the unveiled sun, 

Nor eye nor conscience shrinking from his gaze ; 

Fair forms, whose purity ere early noon 

Has taught a world the lustre of its grace. 



^8 ^'O LADY MUCH BELOVED.'' 

For virtue lendeth woe her majesty, 
Where giant temptings pass, and leave no trace ; 
Pass all unknown, so pure the sinless soul, — 
Come all unfelt, so firm the fine control. 



Ah, no ! thy spirit lingered on our shore, 
From these dear sands with deathless love to soar ; 
Love over death and sin that conquering strove, — 
She bore that love itself to kindred love. 

The storm-tossed dove ! rough branches firayed her 

nest; 
What rest of bliss was ever like thy rest ? 
And we, who stood where strife and sorrow cease, 
Half smiHng said, " What peace is like thy peace ? " 



THE EVENING WALK. 1 89 



THE EVENING WALK. 

Old friends were they, the hour was still, 
And glad the light along the blue, 
And soft the cloud that gathering flew 

In breathing shadows on the hill. 

A man and woman, long-time friends : 
Yet neither spake and neither heard 
The murmur of the whispered word 

Which heart to heart in music sends. 

For almost each slow life had passed 
Without event, with little note ; 
Souls innocent, though souls remote, 

On each, life surely smiled at last. 

No light stole out of either heart. 
To tell of simple joy the tale ; 
No weary woe with terror pale 

Had either wrenched from hope apart. 

Each saw a vision, always one, 

Familiar in its faded frame, 

Unshared, nor known by mortal name ; 
Each walked that daily path alone. 



190 SHARING AT GLOUCESTER. 



SHARING AT GLOUCESTER. 



Beams soft the sunlight sea, 
Stars fixed thereon ; 

The smile is thine, I say 
Oh, take thine own. 



Thou art so good, I cry, 
Breeze softly sighing, go. 

His canvas gently swell, 
Soft round him flow ! 



Where shrieks the whistling air, 

And cliffs are dim, 
Give me the fond despair, 

Breathe soft on him ! 



When evening's tender rain 
Falls ever fresh and free, 

Ah, be not harsh, I pray, 
Or stay with me. 



f 



SHARING AT GLOUCESTER, 191 

When from the golden cloud 

Half tearful smiles the sun, 
Go, balmy brightness, go 

To him alone. 



Why dazzling morn, so fair. 

Alone for me ? 
Ah, take each ray, for thus 

I 'd share with thee. 



192 VISION OF LES MONS DESERTS. 



A VISION OF LES MONS DESERTS. 



Les Mons Deserts ! the wild and savage heights 

For which Du Thet and Guercheville sued and prayed, 

New in thy youth, yet old in storied strand ; 

Grand as the lurid dawn ; yet passing fair, 

As shattered tempest, when the quivering world 

Is tearful sunshine. Other forms divine 

Affection may recall, nor love forget. 

Those are too rich for memory ! Pausing 

She lingers daintily on stream and shore. 

On upheaved granite, or on beach half whelmed, 

On forest range, lake, isle, and sunny sea ; 

But sea, cove, mountain, cave, and precipice. 

In fine perspective, crowd her pictured page, 

Her galleries throng in vain. No absent thought 

This varied beauty's rapture can restore ; 

Shadowed as long farewells, and bright as hope. 

Infinite Circe ! even the heart bewitched 

And maddened with thy loveliness. 

With jealous longing, asks no other eye 

Gazing, to know how wilderingly fair ! 

Time cannot dim thy changeful fantasies, 

Soft clustering, manifold as Nature's self. 

Over thy charms new woe is half disarmed ; 



VISION OF LES MONS DESERTS. 1 93 

The showers of night enhance thy melodies ; 
The mists of morn lend more majestic grace ; 
Still evening's shadows soften every vale ; 
Noon cannot mar their matchless drapery. 
Sleep may assume the weary tramp of day, 
What matter if, amid the pallid folds 
Of her uneasy couch, thy still reflex. 
Entrancing loveliness of dell and shore, — 
Of mount and mist, of rock and tinted cave, 
Of tossing silence and of tumult hushed, — 
Unfolds upon her long and wearied dream, 
Changeless, yet shifting with a thousand shades ? 
Fresh still for her each brown and rocky shore, 
More rich in coloring than Salvator's dyes ; 
Each white and flitting sail, light sketched 
On blackened cliff; beneath, some laughing crew : 
Each curving sweep of shore, of roughest shore, 
Yet outlined daintily as Hogarth's lines ; 
Each rocky summit bold, where manhood cowers ; 
Or wide horizon flecked with crimsoned seas 
And thousand isles dark tossing in their tides ; 
Or vaulted precipice wide flecked with foam, 
Each clambering group of mountains, fold on fold ! 
Still spreads the storied harbor, forest-crowned ; 
Where triumph hung on Gilbert's martyred lips. 
Whence learned the savage tuneful words of peace ! 
Hark ! the reposing lake, long-drawn, is hoarse, 
Where, beating heavy wings, the eagle, calm, 
Slow-sailing, sends defiance down the gorge. 
Go ! dreamer of day-dreams by day and night, 



194 VISION OF LES MONS DESERTS. 

Go, wander near the cove, where sad Gregoire 
Urged France's baptism on a land new-born ; 
Urged, and Columbia heard, ay, heard the world. 
Go, wafted through a triad century, 
Even to the lighted arch where royal ears 
At Guercheville's palace-gate heard royal words, — 
The hps that spake them hushed before his own ! 
Guercheville ! revered till awful honor dies. 
She blessed that raging tide, she spread the sail, 
Dowered with a world, she counts that world but loss. 
She lifts God's cross, and feeds his little ones ; 
Now o'er the sleeper's head the tide-rent cliff ! 
Down topples once again the rock, long fallen ! 
The pillars grand slide from the sloping roof. 
And awful surges close upon the cave ! 
Now chants the plashing of the moonlit wave, 
And restless heavings prompt to soft repose ; 
Now, like the Indian ghosts which fill thy wastes, 
The flashing, broken sunset tints upheave. 



Note. — Read Madame de Guercheville's magnificent recep- 
tion of King Henry, from which she herself escaped. As maid 
of honor to Marie de Medici she received a noble recognition, — 
the gift, never realized, of all America. She sent the colony to 
the Mons Deserts. 



THE SHOALS. 1 95 



THE SHOALS. 



O MOANING islands of the sobbing sea, 

Fierce lullaby of voiceless history ; 

Low, lonely sepulchres and sinful marts, 

More sad than silence of thy broken hearts. 

How full the light on thy mysterious shore, 

Veiling the story of its stormy past ; 

More full the varied whispering, o'er and o'er, 

Of famine, pirates, wrecks, — Hfe, law, and hope o'er- 

cast. 
Learning, religion, wealth, or prize or bane. 
Prompt to thy rescue, pledged themselves in vain. 

Upon thy ruined threshold judgment stands. 
Her fearful plough hath left thee barren all ; 
Thy fields are teeming graves and winnowing sands. 
Oh, not enriched by love, unblest by toil. 
One red, red rose, on thy unshadowed soil. 
Weeps on those nameless graves, thy solemn harvest 
hall! 

Wreck of the further past ! Thy sounding shore 
Met the first pilgrim on our ancient strand ; 
Still past thy hollow vaults and sea-worn door, 



igO THE SHOALS. 

Their human freight unprized the nations pour, 
Where history sleeps along a silent land ; 
Or — diffs and caverned earth, her sculptured page — 
Tells her strange, ceaseless tale, from misty age to age. 



1875- 



Note. — The legislation of England, engulfing Colonial 
commerce, enforcing a slavery against which Massachusetts 
constantly protested, and absorbing to herself the industry 
which supplied our simplest wants, is responsible for a disease 
of crime which the stern development of New England was 
needed to purify. 



J 



ABBEY CLIFF AT MOUNT DESERT. 197 



THE ABBEY CLIFF AT MOUNT DESERT 



Lo ! the shore, where Aubin, wandering 
Amid mountains, lone and lost. 

Saw huge ocean laboring, thundering, 
Carve, with Time, the mighty coast. 



Bursting there, the surf tremendous, 
Ever, on the awful height, 

Leaves a sculptured cliff stupendous, 
Fearful 'mid noon's fiercest Hght. 



When the moonlit tides receding 

Shrink from arch and vault and tower. 

Gathering fears the breath impeding, 
Shuddering mark the oppressive hour. 

Heavy cliff and cloister solemn, 
Long recess and depth of shade. 

Swooping roof and lonely column, 
Stand in awful gloom arrayed. 



ABBEY CLIFF AT MOUNT DESERT. 

Matchless cliff ! thy grand, romantic 

Phantasy unnatural, 
Shadows forth a race gigantic 

Flaunting shadowy abbey walls. 

Near thy shore, pale Aubin fainting 
Far mid mountains left and lost, 

Roamed, with wandering fancy painting 
All the future's mightier coast. 

Visions on his senses creeping, 
Phantoms of a coming Rome ; 

Ruins upon ruins heaping, 

Sod on sod, and tomb on tomb. 

Heavily in awful motion 

Cloisters grand and arches high, 

Mirrored saw on tided ocean 
Starlit in a second sky. 

Mid mosses, forest deep, he traces 
Quivering paths in passing clouds, 

Pompeian streets with ashen faces, 
Amphorae hid in veiling slirouds. 

This the temple fair De Guercheville 

Ideal framed for future time ? 
Virtues rare, averting peril, 

Shield her in her own bridit clime ! 



ABBEY CLIFF AT MOUNT DESERT. 199 

Sinks the night's high noon of glory, — 

Peerless Dian she of France ! 
Dawns a later day of glory, — 

Sad Gregoire, arise, advance ! 

Daughter, bless the martyred fathers, 

Carve their broken cross of turf; 
Lo, Acadian graves she gathers, 

With a tale from every surf. 

Till the splendors of creation 

Etch thy tale, superb Du Thet ! 
Vanquished victor, and thy nation 

Writes thy death's triumphant day. 

Before high Nature, grand, Titanic, 

Sufferings, silenced, half expire 
Vultures, in her fierce volcanic 

Day of smoke and night of fire. 



200 ALEXANDRA' S APPROACH TO LONDON. 



THE APPROACH TO LONDON OF ALEX- 
ANDRA OF DENMARK. 



A VISION not a vision. And a cry, — 
" Denmark ! " A softened cloud too thin for tears, 
Strong waves of cries ! too deep to hear with ears ; 
Voice and no utterance ! A Niagara ! I 
Float on confused sound. 



The Present, all too full for thought to speak, 
Calls on the Past, whose speech is all too thick. 
Rivers pour teachings forth, and shores 
Babble, oh, tales on tales ! and Julian's towers 
Call from their depths profound ! 



Harold and William and the martyred twins, 
The woful weary Annes, the saddened queens ; 
The Temple now, with chattering banners weird, — 
Leave the prone statues dumb ! with cheers be cheered. 
Lo, the chill skies rain flowers ! 



ALEXANDRA 'S APPROACH TO LONDON. 201 

Calls the far future on the Danish Rose ! 
But high the surge of ages heaves and flows ; 
Behold ! where hstening waters whispering foam, 
Looms the dim Abbey. Lo, thy meed and home, 
Its welcome some dark hour ! 

Call voices that thou canst not choose but hear, 
Yon blackened pile hath shadowy summoners drear ; 
Stirs seven-spoused Hal to see the pageant by ? 
Snatch then a welcome from young Edward nigh, 
For thou art chill with fear. 

Yet witching fair was one, and triple crowned, 
A fearful neighbor hath Eliza found. 
And shudders, dreaming, at her martyred mate. 
Wakes Mary, marvelling at her couch of state, 
Not such they spread her bier ! 

Nay, rest thee, fairest brow e'er sad with crown, 
O Fancy's dearest child, and Scotland's own ! 
Sleep, lest the vision of a form so dread 
Benumb thee to a waking woe instead, — 
Oro ! genuflectendo ! 

Yet England writeth History's richest page. 
Rich with recorded crime. The heroic age 
Shares with the Persian, Egypt, Russ, the Greek ; 
Would any tongue but hers the story speak. 
Nor speak by innuendo. 



202 ALEXANDRA'S APPROACH TO LONDON. 

France had her Caesar, her dehverer ; 
Empires with mighty fear have looked on her ; 
Wlien England trembles, woe for captive thrones ! 
She knew to hold while nations threw their stones, 
When fell this modern Roman. 

Yet, Lady, England hath a heritage, — 
Minds great, pure, loyal ; hearts with " noble rage ; " 
Our own, hers, thine, — and thine a golden name ; 
So thou lie down among them, fair in fame, 
Resting a holy woman ! 



SEALED ORDERS. 203 



SEALED ORDERS. 



[During our war a Russian fleet lay at Mount Desert, with 
sealed orders.] 

Last Alexander, great with so much good, 
Who, without guide, unprophesied, alone, 
Savior of laden millions, to the sun 

Lifted thy heavy denizens, and stood, 

And there was light ! Followed uprushing crime 
And storm electric ; fiery air was flame, 
Flame all around thee ! This thy meed of fame, 

Brother of sorrow, nine times crowned name ! 

True friend, thine augur-brow watched at our need. 
Our ferny cHffs below ; thy mottled eaglets wrestling, 
Self-poised, thy sealed words beneath them nestling, — 

Mid scathed forest arms thy fierce doves feed ! 

Gone for another world, with orders sealed. 
We mourn thee. Emperor, Czar, yet only man. 
Rent from thine Eastern world, and little span, 

God's pity take His child, God's pardon shield ! 



204 ALONE. 



ALONE. 



If her eye had been bright, it was faded, 
The mirth, not the welcome, was gone ; 

Her hair, if once golden, was shaded, 

And coifed, not with wreaths, but with lawn, 
Whispering, " O my love, my love ! " 



Her lip, if it once was beguiling. 

Not less pure nor less eloquent now ; 

Not less on dear friends it was smiling ; 

Yet when still matched her patience of brow, 
Sighing, '' O my love, my love ! " 



Worn, worn was the form so light bending, 
Each gesture of languor Avas worn j 

Short sorrow is love never ending, 

Short strife, when the poor heart is torn, 
Murmuring, " O my love, my love ! " 



I 



ALONE. 205 

When softened, fell sudden her even ; 

Her Father asked nothing she knew, — 
Only one from our earth gave up heaven, — • 

One sad ray, not one sunset hue. 
Praying, " O my love, my love ! " 



Our God, in Love's new birth delighting. 
Knows the harvest laid down at his call 

Unveils in soft heavens, inviting 

Her love, hope, remembrance, her all ! 
Yearning, *' O my love, my love ! " 



206 A UTUMN. 



AUTUMN. 



Earth laughs no longer on the glancing Spring, 
But veils her matron features in their prime ; 

The birds of passage flap the sudden wing, 
As Nature lures them to a fairer clime. 

The vigorous season, rich with fruits mature. 
Sighs not with kissing of the Summer's bloom ; 

Glad Amalthea hangs his painted bower. 

Then sportive hides amid the empurpled gloom. 

The hours, young houris, twirl the gaudy leaf. 
The golden letters of Time's ripened lore ; 

And man, the gleaner, more with hope than grief, 
Lingers to con the varied lesson o'er. 

Winter shall bring sweet sleep that 's loved of heaven, 
And over earth his sheltering mantle fling ; 

Like cherub forms shall watch the stars of even. 
Till love awake her to another Spring. 

Some comet, airy ghost of Pleiad lost. 

Softly upon her dreams, like morning dew. 

Shall come and go, sweet vision of the past. 
And man and Nature smile in Youth anew ! 



1840. 



TRANSLATIONS AND SUGGESTIONS. 



TRANSLATIONS AND SUGGESTIONS. 



TRANSLATED FROM GAUTIER. 

" A needless Alexandrine ends the song, 
Which, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along." 

Pope. 

From farthest infinite, earth rushes with the Night, 
To face the grand quadrangle of the skies. With 

spear 
And belt, Orion, mid her sombre shades austere, 

Perseus, Aldebaran, Sirius, pour majestic light. 

Blazing, behold, among innumerable stars. 

Enormous Jupiter, whose month outweighs our year ; 
And heavy-girdled Saturn rolls his cumbered sphere, 

And Venus, all of gold, and saffron-tinted Mars. 

Sealed on each solemn star, the doom of man is told, 
Bliss-breathing Jupiter, Mars surly, headstrong, bold, 
Venus voluptuous sweet, and Saturn's chill repose. 

For me, my star is blue, and shines in midday, near 
One deaf to every sigh of love, one gentle ear 

Amid the heaven-adored, whose blush is trembling rose. 

November, 1879. 



210 VICTOR HUGO. 



VICTOR HUGO. 



What matters, heart, a royal birth, 
And shouts of victory, nothing worth, 

And bells that clang afar, 
Our God to praise in pompous dress, 
The city's giddy wakefulness 

To crown with fiery stars? 

Oh wait, poor heart, alone on God ! 
There 's vanity in glory's sod. 

And grandeur in unrest ; 
The crown, the mitre, gleam and fall, 
The blade of grass is worth them all 

Which lines the swallow's nest. 



The loftier hall, the wider risk ; 
The cannon strikes the obelisk, 

But not the ringdove's home. 
The kings are ever gods by death ; 
Crown yields to cross ; their dying breath 

God's temple paves with tombs. 



VICTOR HUGO. 211 

What splendid domes and haughty towers, — 
Napoleon's, Caesar's, Mahomet's powers, — 

All, all shall pass away — 
Abyss subhme which thought confounds ; 
A foot of ground, a still profound, 

Above, such clamorous day ! 



212 THE INFANT'S EVENING PRAYER. 



THE INFANT'S EVENING PRAYER. 

" DOMINE ! " 

They pray for us ! the children pray. 
O mothers, let them offer still 
The holy spell which guards our way 
From joy unblest, from trembling ill. 
'^ Adoro ! " 

Entreat for us, O white-robed choir, 
Sweet echo of the cherub's song, 
Stealing with twilight's softened fire, 
The shadowed homes of earth along. 
" Imploro ! " 

Entreat for us ! The children pray ! 
O clasped hands ! O stainless feet ! 
Their orisons, as sinks the day. 
Hallow the town's unhallowed street. 
" Ut libera nos ! " 

Entreat for us ! The night, all love, 
Sees wandering feet and spreading snare 
As sleeps beneath his wing the dove, 
So lull our evil in your prayer ; 

Entreat for us ! 

" Libera nos ! " 



O WHISPERED SIGHS." 21 3 



O WHISPERED SIGHS." 



O whispered sighs 
Of holiest tone, 
O sweet surprise 
Of music's own ! 



My child has prayers 
For all men's sin, 
And I no heart 
To pray for mine. 



O, answer hers, 
Ye host divine, 
And bid her pray 
Alone for mine ! 



For oh the cry 
Which then befell, — 
Of half a world 
Perchance the knell, - 



214 " O WHISPERED SIGHS:' 

Might rouse in me 
Words heard above 
For others' woes, — 
One prayer of love ! 

So answer hers, 
Ye host divine, 
And bid her pray 
Alone for mine. 

V. Hugo. 



SWALLOWS. 215 



SWALLOWS. 



In the pool the raindrops bubble ; 

Swallows, on the roof-tree old, 
Sage consult upon their trouble : 

" This is winter — oh, how cold ! " 

Gather, gather thousand martins. 
Wisely pondering, one and all : 

" Oh, how pleasant now in Athens, 
Chattering on the outer wall ! " 

" Every year I go and settle 
Where, upon the Parthenon, 

Pouting homes in shot-holes nestle. 
Metopes puff with callow down." 

Another cries : " I have my chamber 
High in Smyrna's shadowy piles ; 

See the hadji smoke his amber, 

Down where Syria's sunshine smiles." 



2l6 



SWALLOWS. 



" On a triglyph rough I balance 
In the Temple of Baalbec," 

Chirps a fifth ; " by clinging talons, 
O'er my pets with gaping beak." 



"At the Cataract of the Nile," 
Screams the last, " I rest my wing, 

Well I know that hole the while 
In the neck of a granite king." 

Victor Hugo. 



A UNE FEMME. 2\y 



X UNE FEMME. 



Enfant ! si j'etais roi, je donnerais I'empire, 
Et mon char, et mon sceptre, et mon peuple a genoux, 
Et ma couronne d'or, et mes bains de porphyre, 
Et mes flottes, a qui la mer ne peut suffire 
Pour un regard de vous ! 

Si j'etais Dieu, — la terre, et I'air avec les ondes, 
Les anges, les demons, courb^s devant ma loi, 
Et le profond chaos aux entrailles f^condes, 
L'eternit^, I'espace, et les cieux et les mondes, 
Pour un baiser de toi ! 

Victor Hugo. 



Love ! were I a king, I 'd give my throne, 
The sceptre of a kneeling world. 

Empire, and royal baths and crown, 
And sails for want of sea-room furled, 
For but one glance ! 

Were I a God, earth, air, and sea, 
Angels and demons all submiss, 

Chaos and far futurity. 
Space, universe, eternity. 
For one, one kiss ! 



2l8 ''O'ER THE D^DALIAN ARK. 



"O'ER THE D.EDALIAN ARK." 



O'er the Daedalian ark, when loud winds roared, 

And heaving ocean overwhelmed with dread 

The mother's heart, then burst the struggling tear ; 

More close round Perseus twined her sheltering arm. 

" What misery," she cried, " is mine, while thou 

Slumberest in infant innocence, my child ; 

Slumberest how calmly, in this drear abode, 

This cell dim-lighted through its brazen bands, — 

These shadowy horrors. O'er thy clustering hair 

The wild surge dasheth, moistening not one curl ; 

Thou hearest not the raging of the wind. 

All nestled in thy little purple cloak ; 

How beautiful ! thus placid in repose. 

But could'st thou feel my sorrows, oh, how quick 

Were thy young ear to Danae's murmurs ! Rest, 

Dear infant, still ! Sleep booming sea, sleep too ! 

And sleep, oh sleep, immeasurable woe ! 

Change, mighty Jove, — bold as my love the prayer. 

Change thou my fate, and spare, oh spare my child. 

And oh, for his sake, spare thy Danae ! " 

Salem, 1831. 



SONG. 219 



SONG. 



Sweet lily, like a gleaming gem, 
Why should I tear thee from the stem ? 
For whom, my mother, ah, for whom ? 
My mother slumbers in her tomb. 



For whom, my sister? Ah, she fled 
To sleep beneath a foreign bed. 
For whom, beloved? Thou art far, 
And absent years, — ah, years in war. 

I weep alone on mother's tomb. 
And gather lilies, ah, for whom ? 
For whom, my mother, ah, for whom ? 
My mother slumbers in her tomb ! 



220 WEALTH WITHOUT MEASURE. 



WEALTH WITHOUT MEASURE. 



Had I now, had I now, 

An emperor's treasure, 
What I 'd buy, love, I know, 

With my wealth without measure. 

I would buy, love, the lands 
On our brook's grassy brink. 

And plant with my hands 
Roses, pansies, and pinks ! 

Then I 'd buy, love, you know, — ■ 
With a world for my dower, — 

I 'd buy you, love ! and you 
Might work with me at flowers. 



OR EVER HE COMETH.'' 221 



OR EVER HE COMETH. 



Or ever he cometh the mom will be gone. 
Or ever he waketh the matin bird flown ! 
The moonlight will come and the smilight will go, 
And my heart will be fuller and fuller of woe. 

Or ever he cometh the night will be gone, 

Or ever he cometh the matin bird flown ; 

Mid the fragrance of evening, light passeth away, 

And the moon it is dawning, the moon of my day. 

Or ever he cometh the night will be on, 

Or ever he cometh the matin bird flown ; 

Ah, the moonlight and sunlight are passing away, 

And the cold dew of evening 's the death of the day. 



222 "-ADIEU,'' 



"ADIEU." 



Adieu, loved land of memory, 

Beautiful France ! 
Dear nurse of earliest infancy. 

Adieu, France ! 

Adieu, adieu, youth's brightest day ; 

This bark, which breaks life's dearest ties, 
Has borne, has borne but half away. 

The rest is thine ; wilt thou not prize 
The gift, dear France, and love the token ? 

I leave it with thy faithful heart. 

To mind thee of that other part 
Gone from thee, — severed, broken ! 

1828. Marie Stuart. 



SICILIAN LULLABY, 223 



SICILIAN LULLABY. 



Ah, mother's trouble, mother's joy, 

Mother's joy. 
What can she do, dear baby boy. 
Baby boy? 
Hark ! hear what Sleep says, " Is the baby dreaming? " 
Darling, breathe low ! close, little eyes, bright beaming ! 
My beautiful, my sweetest bunch of roses, — 
My own, my golden gem ! Thy dear eye closes, 

Closes. 



224 "-4 7- LIFE'S GAY FEAST. 



"AT LIFE'S GAY FEAST." 



At life's gay feast 
A mournful guest 

I come, and disappear ; 
On earth's chill breast 
I sink to rest, 

And who shall shed a tear? 



FORGET, IF THOU." 225 



FORGET, IF THOU." 



Forget, if thou hast done a kindness ; 

Our Father will remember it ; 
But if a friend thou wound'st in blindness, 

Remember ! that He may forget. 



226 ARNAULT'S ^'WITHERED LEAF. 



ARNAULT'S "WITHERED LEAF.' 



Whither, from thy parent bough, 
Withered leaflet, lonely flying, 
Dost thou float ? Oh, ask not thou ; 
Storm that leaves the oak a'dying. 
Sore bereft me unto death. 
West and south with wavering breath. 
Since that day, bore me away 
From forest to the dale, and then 
From mountain to the plain again. 
At the will of every wind. 
Never more to fear or rave. 
With falling leaves my path I find. 
With rose and laurel share my grave. 



MATILDA ATHELING OF SCOTLAND. 22-] 



MATILDA ATHELING OF SCOTLAND. 



Prospera non l^tam fecere, ne aspera tristem ; 
Aspera risus erant, prospera terror erant ; 
Non decor efficit fragilem, non sceptra superbam, 
Sola potens humilis, sola pudica decens. 



At woe not drooping, nor with fortune glad ; 
At woe she smiled, was oft with fortune sad ; 
Nor beauty found her weak, nor proud a throne, 
Her might was modest gentleness alone. 



228 MOSES. 



MOSES. 



Michael Angelo. 



Who 's he who, carved thus grand in stone, 

High deed of highest art, signal and lone, 

A giant sits. Nay, words I hear, the strife 

So prompt upon the lips of breath and life. 

" Lo, this is Moses ! " spake the awful front ; 

The twofold glory on the mighty brow 

When half the Godhead shone from him as now. 

So stood he when the wide-resounding wave 

Hung still and shrinking at his awful word ; 

So, when the closing sea became a grave ! 

O guilty nation in the far abyss, 

You worshipped idols with a vision dim ! 

Ah, had you made an image like to this, 

How far less guilty to have worshipped him ! 

Translated. 



I 



/ WILL TWINE.'' 229 



I WILL TWINE. 



I WILL twine the white violet, 

Twine also the tender myrtles ; 
I will twine the glad narcissus, 

Twine also the laughing lilies ; 
The crocus sweet I will twine. 

Twining over these the hyacinth ; 
Empurpled tints I will twine, 

Twine roses that lovers love. 
Lo, on the temples of Hehodora, 

Above her perfumed tresses, 
A wreath may mingle its flowers 

With the lovely waving of her hair. 



230 " / SEND. " — " VICTOR V. 



"I SEND." 

I SEND to Rhodocle the wreath I twined, 
Narcissus fresh, anemone dew-lined ; 
Don with my crown humility of mind, 
Ye both may fade, now glowing in the wind. 



"VICTORY." 

Victory may bring regret ; 
Conquered, I may conquer yet. 



SUGGESTED. 23 



SUGGESTED. 



My heart discourseth of many things, 

Why should I speak them out in the dark? 

If it be good seed, give it wings \ 

If it be an oHve-branch, bring it to the Ark. 



232 "C>7/, TELL HIM.'' 



OH, TELL HIM 



To Mr. Richard Greenough, on seeing his lovely Statue, 

EXPRESSING THE CHARM OF THIS FRENCH SONG. 



Oh, tell him that a chain, by all unseen, 

"Binds to his happy hours my hours of grief; 
Oh, tell him of the tenderness and pain, 

The sighs mysterious, with no relief; 
Oh, tell the unshed tears and drear unrest 

Of her, poor slave so long of silent woe ; 
Oh, tell to him her thoughts, her words represt ; 

Tell him, sweet breeze, in dying whispers low. 
Tell thou to him, 
' Oh, tell to him. 

Oh, tell him that, beneath his coldness even, 

My soul revives and ceases to deplore ; 
Tell the sweet harmony of earth and heaven 

In hearts rebellious that contend no more ! 
Ah, pity for this love, all heaven-lighted ; 

For his sweet pity only would I call ! 
Love — deathless woe and purity united — 

That from his glance hath passed into my soul, 
Tell thou to him. 
Oh, tell to him ! 



/ WILL NOT SING. " 233 



I WILL NOT SING.' 



I WILL not sing a song of thee, 

My golden-hearted boy, 
By other lips profaned to be, 
By other lips profaned to be. 
I will not name thy hero-name 

For friends less true to hear, 
Nor herald with the trump of fame 

To greet the stranger's ear, — 

An echo for the stranger's ear. 

Hopes wedded to a whispered tone, 

For liberty too dear ; 
A music breathed for me alone, 
A music breathed for me alone. 
I will not call thee to my heart 

By love's all-hallowed power ; 
In solemn joy we never part. 

I '11 bide the stormy hour ! 

I '11 bide alone the saddened hour. 



Note. — These are chiefly casual pencillings suggested by the 
beautiful translations of Sir John Bowring, a personal friend. 



234 DUKE LEDA 'S BRIDE. 



DUKE LEDA'S BRIDE. 



He was yesterday wedded, Duke Leda ; 

Comes to-day the word, '' On to the war ! " 
His black charger drops foam to his fetlock ; 

By his side, clings the bride from afar. 

" Ah, goest thou to battle. High Leda, 
And leavest me lone, — where to go? '* 

"With thy mother, my young bride, thy mother." 
"What are two mothers, — what shall I do? " 

Duke Leda shook free his bright armor ; 

To his steed she clings, weeping for woe. 
" Where to go ? " " Love, thy father is waiting ! " 

"What are two fathers, — what shall I do? " 

Hung the long silver bells of his courser 
On her hands ; lay one kiss on her brow : 

" Who will care for me now ? " " Lo, thy brothers ! 
"What are ten brothers, — what shall I do." 



ATWEEN THE ELMS:^ 235 



"ATWEEN THE ELMS.' 



Atvveen the elms the waters went, 

A simple maiden o'er them bent ; 

Her slender fingers fi-amed her face : 

" I think/' she said, with nodding grace, 

" Around my head a ribbon blue. 

And in my hair a rose or two, 

Why, somebody might say to me — 

Hark ! no, it is not somebody, — 

A ribbon blue, a rose or two. 

Then somebody might say to me, 

Might say, at twilight, near my seat, 

Ah, fair, — not fair, but something sweet, — 

Might whisper softly in my ear. 

Ah love ! — not love, but something dear, - 

Ah, something dear, ah, something sweet. 

He comes, — ah, whose the rapid feet ? — 

He 's coming ! Softly in my ear 

He says to me, ah, something dear ! 

Ah, something sweet, ah, sometliing dear, 

He whispers softly in my ear ! " 



21^ FROM AULUS GELLIUS. 



FROM AULUS GELLIUS. 



This stone entreats the gazer's passing eye 
To gaze, nor smile, though here a spaniel lie ; 
His mistress mourned, returning to her door. 
To find the love she prized was hers no more. 



> I 



"/ FAIN WOULD BE.'' 237 



I FAIN WOULD BE.' 



I FAIN would be a little stream 

And flow to him ; 
I 'd laugh with every dancing tide, 

And dance for him ; 
Beneath his slumbers murmuring glide, 

And glide near him ; 

A bird, her melody to share, 

At dawn, with him ; 
With quivering wings the morning air 

To fan for him ; 
And ah, to leave a blessing there. 

For him, for him ! 




Bust of Jared Sparks (Powers). 



HARVARD. 



HARVARD. 



READ BY A PARTING CLASS OF HARVARD, 

June 17, 1852. 

Ye leave the haunts where first the Attic bee 
Hung on your lips the luxury of her hive ; 

Ye leave the groves where high philosophy 

Sang in her courts how great are those who strive. 

Here Art hath taught her skill, and Poesy 

Hath warbled peace, or piped her war-notes wild ; 

Here the Ideal wooed the raptured eye, 

And here, a gentle guest, fair Science smiled. 

Ye cannot know the depths of earnest prayer 
Which follows those who leave our ancient halls. 

As loud your last song thrills the silent air. 
And round yon hallowed tree in music falls ! 

Ye bear our honors in your ripening age. 
Oh, ye shall give them freely back the while 

We watch your course, as thicken on our page 
Names which a listening world may hear, and smile 



242 READ BY A PARTING CLASS. 

Go ! ye have heard the cannon on our shore 
Speak the deep summons to high deeds again. 

Another Charleston, Hke our own of yore, 
Calls to her sons, " Remember ye are men ! " 

She calls to nobler deeds ; for strife shall cease, 
And songs of peace resound from zone to zone ; 

But oh, the Greek girl cannot sing of peace 
Where bursts the wave on sleeping Marathon ! 

In Yorktown, as in Concord, ye have left 

Home, and high memories, and storied strand ; 

Swear on this spot ye will not be bereft 
Of such inheritance in either land ! 

The staff of Franklin, and the sword of him 

Whose name, oh, what unhallowed lip forswears — 

They rest where sculptured domes with banners dim 
Stoop o'er the wisdom that a nation hears. 

If there be such among ye, when meet there 
Your Northern staff and Southern sword remote, 

Oh, let them rather cross a common bier, 
Than one star less upon that banner float ! 

Falters the lyre whose notes so daring flow, 
Her theme far best by sacred silence told ; 

Fades the warm flush too prompt unbid to glow, 
And closed the wing which ventured flight so bold. 



HARVARD, 243 



HARVARD. 

Let us gather, O friends, from the vista of years, 

Round the Mother who waits on the shore, 
But forgets not to lavish the meed which endears 

For the child who returns — nevermore ! 
O Mother beloved ! we '11 remember thy sons ; 

And the Prodigal's homeward-bound track 
With welcome will meet, and we '11 bring to our hearth, 

And we '11 guide his steps tenderly back. 

Thou art silent, beloved, in this last tender hour, 

With thine oracles hushed in the grove ; 
And dark in its sheath is the sword of thy power, 

Yet how strong is tlie bond of thy love ! 
For the son who can now hang no flower on thy wreath. 

For the child thou hast rocked to his rest. 
Oh, grant to their memory a name on thy page ; 

They have nestled to sleep on thy breast ! 

Farewell ! We have woven, oh, fondly ! our wreath, 

Yet an hour it shall rest on thy brow ; 
One by one the fresh buds, or the roses half-blown. 

Will leave it less glowing than now. 
Thou wilt gather the petals, and sadly beguile 

Some moments, when faint their perfume ; 
" My sons," thou wilt say, " leave a legacy still 

I may cherish, if withered their bloom." 

May 12, 1868. 



244 OUR OWN FLAG. 



OUR OWN FLAG. 

Air— " Lightly may the boat row." 

Lightly spread the broad flag, 

The red flag, the blue flag ; 
Lighdy spread the broad flag 

That 's bounding for the fray ! 
Strike ! beneath our fathers' flag, 

The true flag, their own flag ; 
Strike, beneath our fathers' flag, 

Worth living for this day. 

God bless it ! 't is our own flag, 

The tried flag, the true flag ; 
Now on ! beneath the old flag 

That led to victory ! 
Double quick beneath the flag, 

The wild flag, the mad flag ; 
Double quick beneath the flag. 

Upon the battery ! 

Navy-blue for our flag. 

The angry flag, our own flag ; 
Heave ahead the angry flag 

That battles on the sea. 



OUR OWN FLAG. 245 

Up and on the foreign flag 

With our flag, with our flag, — 
Up and on the foreign flag 

That 's stained with perjury ! 

Upon them with our own flag. 

The holy flag, the rainbow flag ; 
Upon them with our own flag. 

And who will follow me ? 
Double quick beneath the flag. 

The wild flag, the mad flag ; 
Double quick beneath the flag, 

And who will follow me ? 



246 THE NINETY VOLUNTEERS. 



THE NINETY VOLUNTEERS OF NEW YORK. 

Came deep the tread of armed men, 

Deep, slow, and steadily ; 
" Now for thy worth, through flood and fen, 

We '11 follow thee ! " 

As springs to turf the bounding stag. 

Free to the winds as free, 
So flouts the foe that angry flag 

Which floats o'er 7ne. 

That child must sob in broken sleep. 

Who prays this night for thee ; 
Sires fear for those — brides well may weep — 

Who follow me. 

I spare not ship, nor man, nor steed. 

No ! nor on land nor sea ; 
He battles at his sorest need 

Who fights with me. 

The ninety sent a joyful cry 

To meet that fearful glee : 
" He rides to Hfe or death," say I, 

" Who rides with me." 



GRIEF'S CASKET. 247 

GRIEF'S CASKET. 
(1863.) 

Made all over of smiles, — No tears ; 
Made all over of shining years ; 
Smiles ; and bountiful hours of meeting ; 
Courtesies manifold, gracious greeting ; 
And within, oh, within, 
There it lay ; 
Still as day ; 
Great, bright, beautiful, orbed day ! 
They shall not look at it — 
They shall not point at it — 
" Mine," she said ; 
What was it — Dead? 
" Mine," she said. 

Made of the lustre of folded hair, 
Dark as chestnut ; a ripple where 

It parts on the brow, 

With golden flow — 

Made of the brow 

Like frozen snow ; 
Two still eyes, glancing bright and clear — 
When there was nothing to do to cheer ; 
To cheer a world which might wait on her, — 
Stately shoulders with mantling fur ; 



248 GRIEF'S CASKET. 

Grace, which stoops to a queen, if a queen deserve ; 
Words, in the battle the chieftain to nerve ; 

Beneath, still it lay, 

Still as day ! 

Say, was it dead? 

Whisper now — Dead ? 

"Mine," she said. 

Still and bright ! with her treasure below. 
Full on her breast, like a rose at blow ; 
Deep in her arms, like a babe at rest ; 

Nursed at her breast. 
Like warm round marbles of the nest. 

So, still she broods ; 

Heart- deep she shrouds. 

Tide-love unseen 

Throbs morn and e'en. 

What thus they clutch 

Dare none to touch ! 

A vacant hearth. 

And a little earth. 

And then a morrow 

Broader than sorrow ! 
Far above silence, far beneath sighs, 

Deep — deep it lies. 
No, oh no, — " Dead " 
Never she said ; 
" Mine," she said. 



COLUMBIA. 249 



COLUMBIA. 

A National Song, sung at the Tremont Temple on 
Washington's Birthday. 

Air — " Marseillaise." 

See ! Columbia's flag is swelling, 

Count no cost in righteous war ; 
Onward now the false foe quelling ; 

Down with every threatening star ! 
Fill that flag the skies resounding ! 
On ! for Union under God ! 
Pours it rainbow-light abroad ; 
Do and dare whene'er 't is bounding ! 
Hurrah ! hit hard ! hurrah ! 

The sparkling flag unrolled ; 
Charge on ! right on ! charge, blow on blow ; 
Strike home for every fold ! 

Now, on fortress high uplifting, 

By its lightnings flashing out. 
See ! the foreign force near drifting ! 

Peal its thunders, shout on shout ! 
Guilty sons her life-blood draining, — 

Shall he live, her perjured foe ? 

Shall he deal the deadly blow? 
No ! their borrowed guns disdaining, 



250 COLUMBIA. 

March on ! hit hard ! hurrah ! 

The sparkling flag, unrolled ; 
Charge, and right on ! charge, blow on blow ; 

Strike home for every fold ! 

Billowy seas her walls are lashing ; 

Who will shrink in cause so proud? 
The daring foemen forward dashing. 
Up with blue and crimson cloud ! 
Forth our country's banner throwing, 
Swear to her wealth, life, and all \ 
Who will see that banner fall 
While the pirate flag is flowing? 
March on ! hit hard ! hurrah ! 
The sparkling flag unrolled ; 
Charge on ! right on ! charge, blow on blow ; 
Strike home for every fold ! 

On ! to her all hearts devoting, 

Leave your homes by Bunker's steep ; 
Where her navy's flag is floating, 

Brave the tempest, ride the deep ! 
Where 's the coward backward springing? 
Shall before the lurid storm 
Columbia bow her awful form ? 
On ! on ! the starry fold out-flinging. 
March on ! hit hard ! hurrah ! 
The sparkling flag unrolled ; 
Charge on ! right on ! charge, blow on blow ; 
Strike home for every fold ! 



NOJV FOR COLUMBIA.'' 



NOW FOR COLUMBIA. 



Now for Columbia, 

To Thee her wants this day, 

Father, we bring. 
Grant her a purer ray, 
Grant a more perfect way, 
Songs may we hear ahvay, 

Of Thee to sing ! 

Lift now her banner fair. 
Borne on the wings of prayer, 

Her might Thine own. 
Thou gav'st to victory 
Her sons of hberty, 
For her on land and sea. 

We seek Thy throne. 

Bend Thou all foreign force. 
Give Thou her might free course, 

Far, Lord, and wide ; 
Gulf, river, fort, and hall, 
Foot, horse, and topmast tall. 
In His name, bless them all. 

For us who died. 



252 SUMTER, 

SUMTER. 

The First Volunteer, i86i. 

I 'll tell you, mother, what 's the row : 

The Major, he can get no men ; 
I '11 tell you too what you can do : 

I love him, * — send me ! I 'm thirteen. 
You know they will not think I '11 stay, 

With these long curls ; they '11 think it 's fun, — 
I, such a boy, — in this array ! 

But, mother, I can fire a gun. 

They '11 call ; but I — I'll not retire ; 

Won't they be mad as hornets now ? jS 

There must be somebody to fire, * 

And Anderson will show me how. 
I '11 shout to them to dodge the balls ; 

Now, mother, you don't think I '11 run, — 
So, if they fight, I '11 mount the walls ; 

Or, mother, I can fire a gun ! 



* W. E. S. — Major Anderson and his brother, introduced by 
Henry Clay, were as adopted children in the family of Nathaniel 
Silsbee of Salem, during their education respectively at West 
Point and at Harvard. 



" WHEN STRUCK UPON HER SHIELDy 253 



WHEN STRUCK UPON HER SHIELD. 



When struck upon her shield the Southern dart, 
Columbia called her children to her heart ; 
Then Harvard, solemn mid her old renown. 
Broad stript the treasures of her triple crown. 
Tell every precious name now all her own ; 
Go count her jewels as she laid them down ; 
Count on her scroll the names of those that slept. 
And tell the jewels that Columbia wept ! 



254 THE MATRON'S DRILL. 



THE MATRON'S DRILL. 



Chill the lofty hall and bare ; 
Silent sit the matrons there ; 
Distant aisles, more chill and damp, 
Hollow ring with distant tramp. 
Throw it wide, the arched door ! 
Heavy as wave on sounding shore 
(Music none, and never a word) 
Through the vaulted roof is heard. 
Tramping, tramping, dull and loud, 
Martial footsteps, bearing proud. 
Armed soldiers, silent all. 
Silent tread the echoing hall. 
Still, — severe with patriot pride. 
Bosoms heave which have not sighed ; 
Hands, with never a shuddering greeting, 
Shrink not where the bayonets glance \ 
Sons the mothers' eyes are meeting, 
Each with never a Hngering glance ! 
Patriot soldiers, bearded me'n. 
Fit them, stern, for war's alarms ? 
How is woman tearless, then. 
Dead to all her softer charms? 
Patriot soldiers, bearded men? 
Heaven ! is this but fearful dreaming, — 
Childhood's tender brow, in sooth ? 



THE MATRON'S DRILL. 255 



Can this thing be but fearful seeming? 
Lips are those of beardless youth ! 
Softest cheek that glows, not blushes, 
Nor in woman's presence flushes ; 
Fresh the blood that thrilling rushes, 
And the eye so dark that flashes, 
Clear and firm, with Hfted lashes, 
Sternly claiming warrior's part. 
Gleams from childhood's earnest heart ! 
Mothers bring, our God, to Thee, 
Offering of immensity ; 
On Thine altar calmly lay 
Soft caressings, childhood's play ; 
Fitting these for future strife, 
Bartered — for a country's life ! 
Call the nations to their feet ! 
Bid them thus the Mart}Ts greet ; 
Bid them bring the martyr's crown. 
At their footstool lay it down ! 

Is not this a holy spot ? 

Count the cost — for they have not — 

Large as is life's horoscope ! 

Childhood's prayer, and girlhood's hope ; 

Wife's fruition, mother's kiss ; 

All that woman dreams of bliss ; 

Widow's mite, and sister's joy, — 

For their land to live or die ! 

By our vast and holy cause. 

Liberty, and righteous laws, — 



256 THE MATRON'S DRILL. 

Scatter broad the banner fair I 
Fling the Stars and Stripes to air ! 
Tell the nations there it stands, 
By the seeds of future bands. 
Lift its folds where Sumter fell, 
God and hope shall guard it well ! 
Storm may blast and shatter sail. 
Armies fall, and man may fail, — 
Still we beat the rallying drum, 
Woman calls, and children come ! 



LET ME CO! 257 



LET ME GO! 



Father, dear ! I know you 're waiting 
Once again to hear my prayer : 

Let me go ! The boys are going ; 
Every household name is there. 
I 'm sixteen, sir ; let me go ! 

Harry 's going ! must I stay, sir? 

All the sires are saying Yes ; 
Must the neighbors tell, one day, sir. 

How they fought — and none of us — 
For the nation ? Let me go ! 

Think ! I am your only son, sir ; 

Had you ten, sir, one might stay ! 
Dragging work, sir, here at home, sir ; 

Money 's nothing ! Speak and say 
I may go, sir. Let me go ! 

Pay the farming with my wages. 

You will know us, marching on ; 
Then — no matter what my age is — 

You may say, sir, " There 's my son ! " 
Give your son, sir. Let me go ! 



258 HARVARD. 



HARVARD. 



Young spirit, spurn at evil from thy birth ! 
The serpents strangle as they issue forth ! 
Not trained in Genoa's walls, or fair Vevay, 
Handle, and press thy country on her way ! 
Nursed by a mother's arms, maternal prayers, 
No foster parent gave thee foreign cares. 
Sunward, in full fruition, wings her way 
The soul, fledged only in a western day. 
The tree, rejoicing in the godlike strife. 
Has burst the calyx of its embryo life. 
So India's lily, petal deep, above 
Bore on her veined breast creating Love ; * 
So childhood's bosom glows, at prayerful even. 
In every folded leaf with perfect heaven ; 
So hngers life near ocean's troubled shore. 
Solemn but lone, — no traveller and no fleet ; 
But one momentous moment, then no more ; 
Too small a shallop for so vast a freight, 
A time too little for a timeless night ! 
What breath of time wafts spirit on its flight? 
Thought may reflect Euphrates' desert foam 
Even from the fireside of a lavish home, — 
The dew-drop, in its orbed perfection here. 
The laws, life, beauty of a starry sphere. 

* Love born on a lotus leaf. 



BUCHANAN'S MESSAGE, 259 



PRESIDENT BUCHANAN'S MESSAGE. 

(1861.) 

Dead, O my mother? Every heavy tress 
Down fallen along the outline of thy form, 

Grand in its fine and finished loveliness ; 

And yet thy heart, that burning heart, not warm ! 

Dead, O my country ? Call on Franklin now, 
From out the pale of France's willing charms ; 

Call Greene, Knox, Putnam : Burgoyne stabs, and Howe. 
Great Chief, for life call all ! To arms, to arms ! 

Nay, nay, my mother ! gone the fevered dream ; 

Thou smil'st in glorious beauty all thine own ; 
Needs but that smile upon thy sons to gleam. 

Needs but their arms, thou knowest, around thee 
thrown. 

Needs but their arms ! alas, and where are they? 

Where Webster's words to stem the wild uproar? 
Immortal youth of Adams, where ? and Clay ? 

Oh, for Clay's clarion voice to sound from shore to 
shore ! 



26o BUCHANAN'S MESSAGE, 

Good-night, my country ! none shall watch thy face 
While slow decay puts on her hideous guise ; 

They shall not gather, birds of foreign race, 
To sate them on the dying eagle's cries. 

But they will lightly name thy noble name ; 

And they will deck them with thy fallen plume. 
Thy sons alone shall taint thy spotless fame, 

Their voice beloved pronounce thy hidden doom. 

Cambridge, i86i. 



THE NORTH. 26 1 



THE NORTH. 



She holds her faith without a blot, 
With wider empire, ampler crown. 

The charmer charms, — she turneth not ; 
The force of threats she looketh down. 



One foot is on the ocean sands. 

Yet treads she plains all rough with toil 

The sacred labor of our hands 

We give, — nor seeks she other spoil. 



Around her head the mountain mist, 
Than classic wreath of nobler worth ; 

Grain-laden waves about her waist, 

Toil at her breast, — behold the North ! 



Arise ! whom floods enchained obey. 
While hills eterne thy servants be ! 

" Thus far, no farther ! " shalt thou say, — 
The landmark set of liberty ! 



262 THE NORTH. 

Lift not your voice with bribes and threats, 
She starts from slumber at the call ! 

Come not with withes ! — your Gaza's gates, 
She '11 bear them off, posts, bars, and all ! 

Oh, if thou sleep, the foreign snare ; 

If thou shalt fall, the brazen chain, 
The bitter jibe, the dread despair, — 

Till dread more fearful rouse again ! 

Shalt thou arouse Philistine scorn ? 

Rise in thy might, and issue forth ; 
Thy sacred head all bowed and shorn ! 

Oh, who shall watch while sleeps the North ? 



SHILOH— VICTORY. 263 



SHILOH— VICTORY. 



Nearer, Sergeant ! In their faces 
Pour the charges, home and home ! 

Dead ? How white in blinding flashes 
Of the fire and iron storm ! 



'&' 



Deep entangled, wading, toiling 
Half knee-deep, the Illinois 

See at length the foe recoiling 

From the Keystones' shout of joy. 

Into chaos darkness faded. 

Wagons jolt with bleeding load ; 

To the fetlocks sink our jaded 
Horses through the miry road. 

Night with pelting rain, and tentless. 
Hungry, cold, exhausted, sad ; 

Dreams of mangled forms, relentless ; 
Waking life restores the dead. 



I 



264 SHILOH— VICTORY. 

Still and chilly an erring foeman 
Shares my couch of wilted wreath, 

(Twin destruction) and a woman's 
Image girlish, his — in death ! 

Quick emotion, dread revulsion ; 

Classmate ! brother ! good and brave, 
Take my gift ; my sad devotion 

Gives thee all it can, — a grave. 

March, 186S. 



I 



CUMBERLAND AND CONGRESS. 265 



CUMBERLAND AND CONGRESS. 



'T WAS the calm of a lovely spring ; 
Our ships lay wing and wing ; 
No captain in command 
As she lay behind the sand, 
And no tug had the Cumberland. 

But their fires were all ahght, 
And their cannon held the right, 
When, the heavy tide at lull, 
With no banner far apeak, 
Black sides and gleaming beak, 
Cleaving sharp the double skies. 
Bore the Merrimack ahead ! 
With her flaming porthole eyes 
And her thick and iron hull, 
Down the monster came avast. 
All eager she to meet 
Our old and darling fleet, 
Ere it fled. 

We had little iron hail. 
And we were not under sail. 
But we nailed our flag the higher 



266 CUMBERLAND AND CONGRESS, 

On our naked, raking mast ; 
And alive, ahead, abaft, 
We gave the ugly craft 
All our fire. 



Straight down Buchanan dashing, 
And deep our good ship gashing. 
Broke in us his blazing beak. 
And made a fearful leak 

In her side. 
Cold, cold the waters gushed 
Where death and ruin rushed 

With that tide. 



Of that pallid crew none shrink ; 
Why, she never hath been stronger, 
And she '11 float a little longer ; 
While, pitching slow to sink. 
And fast and faster filled, 
One by one her gunners killed, 
As the wounded, face to face, 
Each dead comrade did replace. 
When was drowned the magazine 
Outspake her last gun then ; 
And deep within the sand 
Lay our own dear Cumberland ; 
While her flag above the wave 
Sheds a glory on the grave 
Of our men. 



CUMBERLAND AND CONGRESS. 267 

If it win, that fearful raid, 
What shall save our great blockade ? 
Give our doomed fleet to its grave ? 
Then shall England tread the wave, 
And hold the trembling slave 
(Half loosened from his chain) 

Once again ! 
Once gone his hope forlorn, 
Long time ere it return 

Once again ! 

But she flies, the Merrimack ! 

With Worden on her track ; 

Above that troubled sea 

The old Flag stood still to see ! 

Rapid ruin on her side 

Cost those waves of ours one tide. 

For she never shall come back ! 

And we wept our loving pride, 

For our masts a'quiver stood. 

When the hull was under flood. 

And the old Flag danced to see ! 



268 THE CONSTITUTION AGAIN AT SEA. 



THE CONSTITUTION AGAIN AT SEA. 

Now up from thy lair, old Ocean 1 

A spirit walks the deep, 
And hush no more thy living tides 

To an infant's sobbing sleep. 

Thy heaving, sinking billows 
More slender keel may lave ; 

Up from thy lair, old Ocean ! 
A tramp is on thy wave ! 

The myriad rays of the summer sleep 
For the merchant's trackless way ; 

Phosphoric flashes round his keel 
From loving waves at play ! 

Hail, hail with thy rippHng eddies 
The light-winged, light-winged boats, 

But toss thy shrieking surges where 
The Constitution floats ! 

A shout from the rending caverns 

Of the long-pent thunder. 
Lightnings her torch where her steps 

The black waves sunder. 



THE CONSTITUTION AGAIN AT SEA. 269 

She shall render stripe for stripe 

With thy lashing fold ; 
Her gleaming stars undimmed 

Their course shall hold. 

On her own element in storm 

Her march is proud, 
In her own caverned side 

A thunder-cloud ! 

A tiar for her noble form, 

Fit for an ocean queen. 
An ancestry of noble deeds 

Crowneth her mighty mien. 

She is armed for embattled hosts, 

Our love her panoply ; 
Her flashing sword, our blood-bought rights, — 

Her watchword. Liberty ! 

For the firm shore your raging might. 

For the rock your spray ; 
Thrice hath the War Queen crossed her path, 

And shrunk away ! 



2/0 HYMN. 



HYMN 

For the Graduating Class of the Divinity School of 
Harvard College. 



Oh, where 's thy sting, disarmed Death ? 

Thy shout of victory, conquered tomb ? 
He gives me hfe that takes my breath, — 

Sound, sweet-toned trump of doom ! 

If I 'm in Christ, why need I shake 
Before my Saviour's judgment-bar? 

Not all my sins shall bid me quake, 
For He, my shield, is there. 

If I 'm in Christ, spread wide the scroll 
That tells the universe my shame ; 

What read they on the written roll ? 
The merits of the Lamb ! 

Yet speak, my King ! Thy Word that tells 
Aloud my sin, all sins above, — 

My soul shall love it passing well, 
It tells Thy matchless love ! 



AUTUMN, 271 



AUTUMN. 



The many- voiced season comes, 
The oldest teacher of the year ; 

Rich, nor in youth nor hope nor blooms. 
The solemn season draweth near. 



Clad, like a matron past her prime. 
In golden band and jewelled robe. 

She comes to lift the shroud of Time, 
She comes our inmost souls to probe. 



Above her head the sharpened sword, 
Loud in her ear the warning cry 

She hears, nor trembles at the board, — 
" This crowned queen shall die, shall die ! 



Lo ! how, as for a royal fete. 

Each day adorns the gorgeous scene ; 
And decks anew her regal state. 

And crowns with gems her mighty mien ! 



2/2 AUTUMN. 

I love her pomp, I love her power, 
I love to see her, day by day, 

Put off the jewels of the hour, 
And cast her diadem away ! 

Still swings the sword ; she hears the call, 
And calm performs the appointed deed ; 

And writeth words upon the wall • 

Each prophet of our God may read ! 



THE CHANDELIER, 273 



THE CHANDELIER: OR, A FACULTY 
IN DOUBT. 

A True Tale of Olden Time. 

The Faculty sat, in Kirkland's time, 

In a wing of the fine old President's Home ; 

Evening is waning ; eight o' the chime 

Peals from Old Harvard's despotic dome. 

Now " students must study," the law insists, — 

Not with notions of students that law consists. 

The college is still ; but a step on the stair. 

And the King of the Commons addresses the chair : 

" Your Honor and Fellows ! " — then handled his hat, 

Much like a Congressional hat in debate, — 

" The candles of tallow, so yellow and tall, 

On sconces of tin hanging dull on the wall 

Of our commons profuse " — and he paused not to say, 

" Not as dull, not more varied, but greasy as they, — 

Though the boys don't abuse them, well trained as they 

are. 
No dreaming of better afflicts them, I 'm clear. 
Yet I 've thought that these might to your wisdom 

appear 
Better changed for. some lamps in a green chandelier." 
A pause, the twentieth of an hour, 
Of silence breathless, fraught with power, 
At purpose high, so wildly brave, 
O'ercame each breast of that conclave. 



2/4 THE CHANDELIER. 

Then, first recovered, Kirkland spake : 

" Our Commons' King, is he awake ? 

Or speaks he, weary with the day, 

Slumber that charmeth care away? 

In commons such a briUiant scene. 

O'er plates, with knives and forks between ! 

Freshman prompt and Senior keen 

Would mar such brilliant gift, I ween ! " 

The conclave breathed, the Fellows spake ; 

They murmurs of applause awake. 

And lift, the sudden panic o'er. 

Shoulders that never shrugged before ; 

Yet high o'er all, serenely still 

The King of Commons works his will. 

One word still uttered purpose high : 

" Prseses and Fellows, let me try ! 

No loss shall cause a throb of sorrow, — 

Just for one night. That night, / 7/ borrow ! ' 

Kirkland, whose bosom erst of need 

Responsive beat to noble deed. 

Valor thus tried opposed no more ; 

Avoided voting counted o'er, 

An assent nodded parenthetic. 

Nor ventured speeches rhetoretic. 

Now far and free 'neath shadowed skies 

The Majesty of Commons hies. 

Eight days untired for students wrought. 

Eight nights in dreams of students thought ; 

Those days of sighs, those dreams of joy. 

Are passed ; and doubts no more annoy. 



THE CHANDELIER. 275 

In those familiar halls he stands, 
The lamps have left his eager hands ; 
Trembling, yet shedding far and near 
Its verdant glories, beams the chandelier ! 
With time nor fear no dallying now, — 
No pause those gladdened feet must know. 
Again, commanding full debate. 
Kindly as great, famed Kirkland sat ; 
Alas, for hopes and coming fears ! 
The topic now is broken chairs ! 
Now had that face, for students' good. 
Worn frown of awe, if frown it could, 
But, as the Commons' Lord the while 
Thrills at the scene, returns the smile. 
" Boys must be boys," 't was thus his humor told ; 
" No doubt it ' broke itself.' Those chairs are old. 
Fellojvs and Tutors, Harvard's Lords and Commons ! 
Our Master of the Revels calls, — attend the summons ! " 
Now bustled each Fellow, now jostled each Tutor, 
Like his own verdant lustre danced the eyes of the 

suitor. 
Rose Farrar beloved, and Popkin straightforward, 
Rose Ware and rose Oilman, — no names for a coward, — 
Rose Brazer, rose Hedge, ever skilled to refute, 
Rose Frisbie the gentle, and Norton acute. 
Rose Kirkland the last, though the first to decide, 
Rose Sparks, whose best place was by that honored side, 
And long they remembered the fun of that day. 
When the cry was from Kirkland, " Ho, up and away ! " 
Down the stairways so crooked, and out at the gate ; 
Down the pathways, like all Yankee pathways, so straight ; 



276 THE CHANDELIER, 

O'er the fairy-trod grass, 'neath the moon-shedding 

elm, — 
For the galley rides safely, with him at the helm. 
They pass the chapel, consecrate to God, 
They mark the well-worn steps by students trod ; 
On to the portal of the pretty scheme, 
Now manly wisdom smiles o'er boyhood's theme ! 
Behold the halls where students, tutors, sit ; 
Where sconces students to reflect forget ; 
The tables, ornate still with yellow salt, 
So late with brackish butter's whiter fault. 
Sugar embrowned, and bread ; while students roar 
That everything but vinegar is sour, — 
Remorseless students ! — and that nothing 's hot. 
Save that same butter-plate, — for wine is not. 
Here Fresh, Soph, Senior, range from hall to hall, 
The circle see on each dividing wall ! 
Whence Soph to Senior, Fresh to Junior sends 
(When wrangling chance or question severs friends) 
Bread, butter, teapot, sizings, pewter plate. 
Ere falls their wrath on Harvard's men of state ! 
What novel glories dawn upon her now ? 
What charmed radiance pales that honored brow? 
What grouping now around the Commons' King? 
What names renowned adorn yon princely ring? 
Lo, where the bright green rays in verdure shine. 
Beams on the tables Kirkland's face benign ! 
" Think you," — to Sparks he speaks, who views the scene 
Much as full manhood, on a schoolboys' green. 
Gazes where parents join their children's dance, 
A smile for those, for these a saddened glance, — 



THE CHANDELIER. 2/7 

"Think you," said Kirkland, " boys will let alone 

That brittle chandelier, nor hurl it down? " 

Pausing, the Prseses, all a boy himself, 

Seized the large knife before him on the shelf, 

" Even now I feel " — and drew to make a pass — 

" The greatest wish to whirl it at the glass, 

To see the fragments glitter on the ground, 

Dash down the branches, hear how it will sound ! " 

O friend alike of Sophomoric joy 

As friend of man ! as keenly still a boy ! 

Kind even to mischief, if no malice urge ; 

Indulgent still, perhaps to error's verge, — 

That smile on others' errors kindly thrown, 

The world and love grant freely to thine own ! 

The errors of thy love, the genial word. 

Fault oft o'erlooked, that love each grief that heard. 

On thee kind Heaven the parent's heart conferred ; 

Granted and recompensed the gift divine, 

Childless thyself, all Harvard's sons were thine ! 

On noble heads full long that lustre flung 
Peculiar radiance, and uninjured hung. 
Than thou, of all who honored Nature's plan, 
Majestic Kirkland, none so much the man ! 
Long fell that light on many a youthful brow. 
None, shade of Kirkland, more a child than thou ! 



1852. 



278 THE RECORD OF THE YEAR, 



THE RECORD OF THE YEAR. 



Peal forth your thanks ! your hoarded wealth 

Ye guard for many a needy one ; 
Death taken hath from Hfe and health 
Only one hundred seventy-one. 

Gone while Time's last surge was rolling, 

Only one hundred seventy-one, 
Passed while deep heart's knells were tolling. 
One by one, one by one. 

To raging pest or lingering pain, 

Only one hundred seventy-one ; 
Not more faintly sound again 
Your holy triumphs, happy one ; 

That, as the pealing '' lo " parts, 

" Only one hundred seventy-one," 
Echoes within some bleeding hearts. 
Woe for that one, that one ! 



THE RECORD OF THE YEAR. 279 

That now beneath some silent roof, 
Only one hundred seventy- one ; 
Lone, half divine, weaves sable woof. 
For that roof 's one, that dear loved one. 

And Winter's friend, and Summer's bride, 

Each but one, each but one. 
In age, want, youth, and bliss have died, 
Only one hundred seventy-one. 

And many a soul with sorrow rife. 

More than one hundred seventy-one, 
Would change with them the thrill of Ufa, 
And be that one, and be that one. 

How many names Love moaneth wild 

Amid one hundred seventy-one ; 
Brother, sister, wife, or child. 

Each sad chime tells more than one ! 

Gone the mothers of our childhood, 

Each but one, each but one ; 
Gone the father- friends of manhood, 
Amid that hundred seventy-one. 

In vacant homes it echoes round, 

" Only one hundred seventy-one ; " 
And oh, and oh, how sad a sound 
To me that one, to me that one ! 



1835- 



28o AUTUMN. 



AUTUMN. 

Mid ruined glories strewn around, 

While girds the year his armor on, 
Lo, regal Autumn waiteth crowned 

To cast her golden sceptre down. 
I love to see the noble tree 

Disrobing for the strife ; 
So human spirits, calm and free. 

Should meet the storms of life. 

I love to see the golden tops 

In heaven's pure bosom lie ; 
I love to see old age's hopes 

Reposing on the sky. 

I love to see the glorious moon, 

The autumn night's most gorgeous moon. 
The opal crown of eve. 

As on a sister's brow forlorn, 
The pallid brow of Autumn's mom. 

Her parting blessing leave. 

When measures back his course the sun. 
And flowers are changing, one by one, 

Is not great Nature's saddened smile. 

Where Night's soft liquid eyes look down. 



AUTUMN. 281 

Like fading woman's simple guile, — 

To smile on life, till life is gone, 
To heave but one, the latest sigh. 

While patient love is watching nigh? 

I love to see the broken leaf 

Stoop for the first, last kiss of grief, 

The farewell kiss to verdant earth, 

Whose yearning bosom gave it birth, — 

Who, like a mourning mother, spreads 
Her richest vesture for the dead. 

'T is grand, when forests bare and old 

Disrobed stand for strife ; 
So human spirits, calm and bold, 

Go, meet the storms of hfe. 

I love, when Autumn waiteth crowned 

While girds the year his armor on, 
Mid ruined glories stre^vn around, 

To cast her golden sceptre down. 




Statue of Washington (Crawford). 



ADDENDA. 



1 



These verses are chiefly preserved in obedience to a reiter- 
ated promise of the past ; a few belong to an unfinished " Tale ; " 
yet others are left as lonely memorials of those whom there 
were many to love, or of some 

" Violets by a mossy stone, 
Half hidden from the eye." 



With the long delight of friends we have enjoyed the trans- 
lations of Sir John Bowring ; and we have felt his undoubted 
pardon while at times changing their melody into new forms 
of versification or of song. 

Suggestions from Bowring's translations are marked with a 
star (*) in the list of contents. 



ADDENDA. 



THE PAVILION: 

At Hyde Park, N. Y. 

by f. a. s., as copied by j. s. 

[This charming sketch and poem is introduced with a most 
tender regard for a memory already known and cherished among 
those who have loved and who have lent an added light to the 
varied scenes on the Hudson. The playful grace of the lines 
half recalls such gentle versification in Drake himself.] 



A FAIRY cliff — whose rugged face 
Is vvet with changing tides that chase 
Their restless waves along the base — 

Frowns o'er the deep beneath, 
Crowned with a temple's structure slight, 
Its swelling dome and columns white 
Peering half hid through foliage bright. 

Cedar and birchen wreath, 



286 THE PA VILION. 



Amidst whose tangled shades are seen 
Secluded paths and alleys green, 
Arches of verdure cut between 

The trees o'erspread with vine ; 
And sheltered safe within the groves 
Are quiet and sequestered coves, 
Whose banks the purple harebell loves, 

And nodding eglantine. 

3- 

Far west the lofty Caatskills lie. 
Their line of peaks uprearing high 
In bold relief against the sky, 

Their summits darkly blue ; 
While flushed with sunset's parting glow, 
The mighty Hudson rolls below. 
Its waters gold and crimson flow, 

Purpling to twilight's hue. 

4. 
A peaceful scene, the day is past ; 
The heights a broader shadow cast, 
And evening's dews are gathering fast 

On valley, plain, and hill ; 
The vessels idly ride at rest 
Upon the river's tranquil breast. 
And scarce a billow's heaving crest 

Disturbs its surface still. 



THE PAVILION. 287 

5- 
Softly along the wooded glades 
The Imgering line of twilight fades, 
And twinkling in the dusky shades, 

Unnumbered fireflies play. 
Now comes, ye nymphs, the witching hour, 
When looks and smiles a magic power 
Catch, like the elfin herb and flower. 

From moonbeam's pallid ray. 

6. 

Then loiter not these haunts among. 

When night sends forth her glittering throng ; 

And evening winds their murmured song 

Sigh through the leafy trees. 
Or twixt your glossy tresses steal, 
Fanning the blushes that reveal 
All that you dare not speak — yet feel — 

In stilly hours like these. 

7- 
Yet who can say what thoughts may rise, — 
What saucy lips and saucier eyes, 
In tell-tale glance and tell-tale sighs. 

May whisper in these bowers ? 
When idle fancy freely roves. 
Peopling the night with fays and loves, — 
Ah, then, there 's treachery in these groves. 

In listening leaves and flowers. 



288 



THE PAVILION. 



8. 

And yonder moon so calmly bright, 
Which from each ripple's curling height 
Reflects her pure and silver light, 

Scarce paler than the day, — 
Cold though her quiet rays may seem, 
Sleeping on hill and cliff and stream, — 
As poets tell, sheds just the beam 

To lead your steps astray. 



LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON. 289 



LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON: 

Who Dreaded her own Mental Excitement. 



O HAPPIER in thine early doom, 
And happier in affection's tears, 

More blest in this, thy feverish bloom, 
Than in the prosperous course of years. 



To see that light all fade away 

Which tinged with joy thy youthful hours ; 
To touch, and find them fallacy. 

Those cloud-hues Fancy wreathed with flowers. 



The quickened pulse, the heated bram, 

The dark intensity of light, 
Whose every throb of joy is pain, 

Whose very brightness cheats the sight. 



290 LUCRE TI A MARIA DAVIDSON. 



Nay, nay, the very dread of madness, 
When forms and things in fire-dreams melt ; 

The throbbing, throbbing heart of sadness, 
'T is joy but to have felt. 



For Fancy flung her vagueness there, 
And Memory swept her broken lyre, 

Imagination peopled air, 
And Genius touched the dream with fire. 



[828. 



THE MANIAC MOTHER. 291 



THE MANIAC MOTHER. 



I HEARD a voice, I knew a step ; 

It bent the grass of a foreign land. 
I felt the pressure of a lip, 

'T was his, his kiss upon my hand ; 
You look upon my eye and weep, 

It is not wild, it is not wild ; 
Yet I have watched when wrapped in sleep 

The features of an infant child. 
Go, go and watch the unguarded look ; 

The only face that wears a smile 
When sleeping, and it cannot lie, 

Is childhood's spotless purity, — 
The pure; because unwritten book 

Unsullied, fair, which tells no guile. 
Ha ! you who seek the cell of madness. 

Ye see where shado^vy spectres dwell. 
And every form, save those of gladness, 

Dance up at memory's broken spell ; 
Who come to smile by turns, and stare. 

As shrinking form speaks horrid thought ; 
And eyeballs that would shrink must glare 

At forms by frenzied fancy wrought ; 



292 THE MANIAC MOTHER, 



Who list, but not to soothe the moans 
Which rise where grief has laid man low, 

Who shrinks from, but not pity, groans, 
Which pierce this ear so hardened now. 



She paused ; then slowly, in an altered tone. 

As fevered memory pictured sorrows all her own : 

" Once, once I heard another sound, 

The bells were ringing merrily, 
And songs and mirth were floating round, 

My heart it beat so heavily ; 
And said I pleasure's band was there, 

Spake I of joy and mirth? 
Can there be aught so witching fair 

Among the shades of earth ? 
That step was trained to the bridal dance. 

That lip was bent on another's hand. 
That eye reflected another's glance. 

And it beamed with the light of his own sunny 
land ! 



" My boy ! so silent in my arms, 
Mid flowers, all innocent as they ; 

Why startles heaven with wild alarms 
My heart, so loving to obey? " 



Too closely guarded by his maniac mother. 
The litde life did melt into another ; 



THE MANIAC MOTHER. 293 



And she looked on him, when her child was dead, 

On what was left when all but beauty fled, 

And, with mistaken tenderness, did strive 

To raise him up, as he were still alive — 

For still the smile was there. God ! Death can smile, 

And living sorrow madly shriek the while ! 

Her bridal veil around she twined : 

" Pure to the pure, my darling boy ! 
Soft with the web for thee I bind 

Past memory — and all of joy." 



181^ 



294 ''TAKE BACK THE FLOWER. 



"TAKE BACK THE FLOWER." 



[First published in a tale of Hawthorne's, at his kind request, 
and printed, as a song of his (" Faith") in a Salem paper.] 



Take back the flower, 't will only fling 

A perfume round my way, 
Like music from a worn-out string, 

Sooner to shrink away. 

Take back the bud, 't is like my dream, 

Nurst in a sunny hour ; 
And, while its hopes the fairest seem, 

Broke — it will never flower ! 



THE EVENING MIST, 295 



THE EVENING MIST. 



Beautiful veil upon the brow of eve, 

Screening her smile, 

Of shadowy vapor blent. 
Which gently doth descend and leave 

A curtained light, 

Like that so softly bright. 
Gleaming through Memory's vista'd aisle, 

And resting there, 

More lovely far 
Than sunset's gorgeous tent ; 

Light, yet impervious cloud. 
Which gradual doth enshroud 
In kindly dimness, like the eye of age. 
Softening yet shadowing that which is no 
more ; 
Joys fleeting fast. 
Or now already past. 
And melting into tears past grief or rage, 
Hang soothing on my sight 
When sets Life's summer night 
On joys and hopes which in their strength 
are o'er. 



